


An Arrangement

by strawberry_pills



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-10-04 17:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills
Summary: A deal made in fear and desperation puts Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy in a very complicated relationship.





	1. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this on a whim yesterday. English isn't my native tongue so apologies in advance for any grammar/spelling mistake.

**February 1998.**

She pressed her face into her palms, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “Is there any other way?”

Hermione sat on the far edge of the couch, her feet crossed at the ankles. The room smelled predominantly of freshly laundered sheets and the stale aroma of antique furniture. It was well-lit and familiar, walls white and clean with a comfortable looking bed—a single king-sized bed, Hermione noted.

Falling asleep with Lucius Malfoy next to you in bed ought not to be easy. Somehow, however, Hermione was finding it was the only way to get anything close to a good night’s sleep. It was pure exhaustion and necessity. They were on the run, she was a Muggleborn witch and he was a traitor to You-Know-Who’s cause and posing as a couple was the most expedient way of getting a room for the night without anyone questioning them.

Of course, they’ve tried the family-relative sort of scenario first but they looked nothing alike that the receptionist didn’t believe them, not even bothering to give them the benefit of the doubt. After seeing the couple before them easily booked a hotel room, it was then that Hermione pulled Lucius outside and suggested they pose as a couple which outraged the older wizard.

_“Absolutely not!” Lucius crossed his arms across his chest. He looked like a petulant child that was forced to eat his vegetables and Hermione had to bite back the urge to call him out on it._

_“You’re the one who wanted to sleep in expensive hotels!” She shrieked. “I was fine with that inn across the street but no, Lucius sodding Malfoy wants to roll over in silk sheets!”_

_“Why you—”_

_He was cut off when Hermione pointed her wand at him and Lucius was forced to step back. “Take one more step and I’ll hex you off. I’m the only one with a wand here Mr. Malfoy and if you want to live, I suggest you behave yourself and follow my plan.”_

_Hermione could see him clench and unclench his hands and it was probably taking everything in him not to strangle her. Eventually, the wizard relaxed a bit and said through gritted teeth, “Very well then, Miss Granger. Have it your way.”_

So the receptionist had, as most hotel receptionists would, given them a single king. They both stared at the single bed until Lucius had offered—albeit begrudgingly—to sleep on the floor pulling the spare pillow and blanket out of the closet. A true gentleman to the core—probably his only redeeming quality—but Hermione’s sense of Gryffindorian chivalry kicked in.

_"Honestly, Mr. Malfoy, it’s not like you’ll take advantage of me in the middle of the night. You may be many things but you are most definitely not a rapist.”_

It wasn’t like some cheap Muggle romance novel her mother used to read. They didn’t end up twined around one another, no morning erection or sleepy admissions of undying affection. They slept. Got up. Left. The next hotel had a suite and a good pull out bed and that was okay. Having him in the same room where she could hear him breathing was still oddly comforting. And it was early weeks—when being alone and on the run, accepting her criminal status was difficult still, before they had made it safely out and away from the reach of the Ministry and You-Know-Who’s followers and every other witch or wizard that was surely looking for them. They never stayed in the same place for more than three days, something they learned the hard way when they nearly got captured by the Carrow siblings.

“If there was, I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you,” came a sarcastic drawl, drawing Hermione away from the memory. “Believe me, I am appalled as you are with this idea, but we have no choice.”

A glare that could probably make even You-Know-Who tremble was sent in his direction, but he just pretended to flick an imaginary lint off his immaculate robes. _Pompous git._ “Yes, we do! We could think of another way to ensure our safety!”

Lucius started pacing the small room, his shirtsleeves rolled up and cravat loosened, hair a mess from all the times he’d run his hands through it. He was exhausted, but there was still so much to do. There was always so much to do. It never stopped. Sometimes he wondered if this—shifting allegiances, aligning himself with the ‘light’—was all worth it, truly.

He ran his hands through his platinum locks—_again_. She'd never seen him so worked up before—well, to be fair, Hermione had never seen the man show any emotion other than mild contempt. “Miss Granger, we are both fugitives hunted by the Ministry—the same Ministry that is now controlled by the Dark Lord.”

“I know. Harry, Ron, and I narrowly escaped the Ministry a month ago.”

“You what? How—nevermind. Then you know the law Dolores Umbridge recently passed? You know what happens to Muggleborns like you?” Hermione can’t help but shudder at the memory of her fellow Muggleborn wizards and witches being turned to stone in the middle of the Ministry lobby.

“Yes, but—”

“I’m a traitor in the eyes of the Dark Lord,” he interrupted her. “If we get caught, we’ll be both placed on trial and we’ll be both asked to testify against each other in front of the _jury_.” He said the last word with such disdain that almost made Hermione flinch. She suddenly remembered that he was put on trial after You-Know-Who’s first disappearance, after the first war. "It's a logical solution."

She had to admit that it had seemed logical, smart even. In the unfortunate event that they get caught, they would never have to testify against one another, never have to worry about rights or visitation or the flow of information or money. It would even help them book hotels more easily, but she can't help but doubt this plan—his plan. Can't help but think that he's acting out of fear, and desperation (_plus there’s the matter of his..._ Hermione was even more hesitant to bring that up). That maybe there's another solution to this problem. To propose a marriage like that had seemed out of character for him—well, everything about this situation they’re both in seemed out of character for him.

She's reluctant to voice these thoughts out in fear of another argument with him. The last time they fought that bad, his fellow Death Eaters almost caught them. To think that happened only four days ago. Surely there was another solution they both had not yet considered. If only she had a little more time, she was certain that she could have conceived of a plan a tad more reasonable. She wasn’t called the brains of the Golden Trio for nothing, the Brightest Witch of Her Age for nothing.

Hermione took a deep breath and began. "I don't think—"

“There’s no time to _think_," he interrupted her again, not allowing to voice out her concerns. “The more we stand here debating about the faults and merits of this idea, the more likely we would never find my son and your friends. We need to be pragmatic about this.”

“I am being pragmatic about this!” She said exasperated. “Have you completely thought about the consequences of this plan? What about your son? What if he finds out about this?”

That got him to stop pacing. “He won’t. I'll file the annulment papers—or divorce, whichever you prefer—discreetly as soon as this is over, as soon as that madman is completely gone forever, and as soon as my son is safe,” he said as he wandered over and sat on the other end of the couch.

“This isn’t necessary. We’ll just have to be more extra careful, so we’ll never get captured.”

“Extra careful?” He huffed a laugh. “Says the witch who was caught by the Snatchers not too long ago.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“And I’m not a Malfoy!”  
  
The silence stretched before them—Hermione staring at the polished marble floor and Lucius staring at the finely decorated walls inside their hotel room. Thank Merlin she placed some silencing charms around, or the Muggle staff of the hotel would be banging on their front door right now.

“Tell me, Miss Granger, what is it that’s really bothering you hmm?” Hermione felt herself sink under his unrelenting gaze. “You’re a bright witch and I’m fairly positive you’ve weighed out the pros and cons and have already come up a conclusion—a conclusion I’m certain that agrees with what I’m proposing to you."

“I just think you’re not thinking this through completely. If you have then you wouldn’t be suggesting this.”

Lucius just raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate further. _Here goes nothing..._

“Like you just said Mr. Malfoy, I’m Muggleborn. Only a few weeks ago you were part of a cult that seeks to eradicate my kind and now you’re suggesting that we get married. Pardon me if I’m _a bit_ hesitant to accept your, uh, proposal.”

“And the truth finally comes out,” he leaned back on the couch and stared off on the corner of the hotel room. Lucius Malfoy in a pensive mood is something Hermione never expected to see in her entire existence. “I was part of it but that doesn't mean I wholly believed in it. My motives and my actions have always been for the betterment of the family name. It was a responsibility I was thrust upon since my birth.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I wasn’t aware there was one.”

She sighed again in frustration. “Stop answering me like that! You're not Dumbledore!”

“There’s something else bothering you, Miss Granger. Out with it.”

Of course, he’d know something else was bothering her. Hermione kept wondering if the wizard was a skilled Legilimens and has been invading her mind from the start.

“I’m sorry to bring this up now, but Mr. Malfoy your wife recently died—murdered by her sister—plus, you and your son got separated. I’m afraid your current emotions are dictating your decisions.”

He took that in momentarily, and a certain sorrow passed through his features, sinking in and imprinting itself on his bones. Maybe this was the first time he'd allowed himself to realize what had happened, what he had lost that night. This spurned Hermione to continue.

“Emotions have led people to do all sorts of things they later regret—like, oh, a conservative Pureblood wizard marrying a Muggleborn witch.”

“Why, Miss Granger,” Lucius placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “One might assume you’re _concerned_ for my well-being.”

“Your decisions directly affect those around you—in this case, me. And should we get captured, this will, in turn, affect my friends and your son as well. So, yes, Mr. Malfoy, I am concerned for your well-being.” And this time his expression was of genuine shock but it only lasted for a second before it reverted to his usual annoyed expression. Hermione was silently pleased to have caught him momentarily off guard.

“I assure you, Miss Granger, that I’m not distracted by these... _emotions_,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Lucius turned and face her, arching his eyebrows a bit. “Do you still have any concerns?”

It was her turn to lay back on the couch and think, eyes focused on anything but the only other person in the room that she missed the heated look he was giving her as she chewed her bottom lip.  
  
She’d tried her best to dissuade the elder Malfoy from putting the plan into motion but he’s as unstoppable as a stream of spell once he’d set his mind onto something. Hermione sighed and decided to concede defeat, letting it fall into the hands of fate—or in this case, Lucius Malfoy.

"How do you suppose we are going to achieve this goal? We can’t exactly get married here in Britain. And I don’t think a Muggle marriage is equivalent to a Wizarding marriage."

“Au contraire, Muggle marriages are equally binding as Wizarding marriages and yes, I agree, we can't get married here. The Ministry will get notified immediately so we may have to leave the country,” he stood from the couch and started for the bedroom they reluctantly share (for security purposes, she assured herself). "I'll make the necessary arrangements tomorrow."

But before he could leave, he was stopped by Hermione's voice.

“This was not how I imagined my wedding proposal would be.”

He turned around, and she noticed that he was looking at her oddly.

“Welcome to my world,” he drawled.

“Another reason to be thankful for being Muggleborn,” she shrugged at him which earned her an eye-roll.

“If it makes you feel any better, would you like me to go down on one knee and say the words?” He started to bend his knee to the floor but stopped when a piece of crumpled paper whizzed past his face.

“Oh, bugger off.”

* * *

**November 1998.**

Hermione flicked the lid of the lighter and tipped it towards the corner of the small white parchment. She could’ve used her wand to incinerate it, cast an _incendio_, and the paper would turn to dust in the blink of an eye. But she’s sitting in a busy cafe in Muggle London and besides, it felt somewhat satisfying burning it the Muggle way.

Hermione would gladly pay all her money just to see his reaction.

She watched entranced as the two-letter word written in elegant handwriting was being devoured by the flames slowly, ashes crumbling down onto the empty plate of crème brûlée.

_No._ It simply said.

The same old response she would get whenever she’d send an owl asking if he’d signed the damn papers. She’s getting tired of it.

Hermione stared at the pack of cigarettes resting near the plate—a habit she developed right after the war. She could use one right now but lighting one would only ease her mind and calm her emotions and she didn’t want that. She needed the anger to fuel her in her current quest.

It’s been almost seven months since the battle had ended and the light had finally triumphed. Voldemort turned to dust by the hands of one Harry Potter.

Hermione could still vividly remember the final moments of that historic battle as if it had just ended yesterday. How everyone—even the remaining Death Eaters—stood there astonished as the two wizards finally fulfilled the prophecy foretold years ago.

As Harry and Voldemort each finally cast the last spell that would end it all, Hermione caught a flash of platinum blonde hair across the Great Hall. He was standing there with his son and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as she noticed the space on the other side of his son—a space a certain family member used to occupy.  
  
Warm brown eyes met cold grey ones and for a moment, everything was at standstill. The distance between them was far greater than the physical separation of a few feet. They stared at each other until a golden flame erupted in the middle of the Great Hall and everyone gasped as Voldemort fell to his knees, his wand—the Elder Wand—was currently being held by none other than Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Survived. The Dark Lord breathes his last and final breath and slowly disintegrated into nothing.

Cheers erupted from across the hall. The majority of remaining Death Eaters threw down their wands and surrendered to the Aurors while the higher ranks escaped capture and went into hiding.

Kingsley Shacklebolt took over as the Ministry of Magic and immediately started the repairing and rebuilding of the entire Wizarding community which continued to this day.

The Golden trio was heralded as heroes and was immediately given an opportunity to work in the Auror department but only Hermione accepted the offer (her dreams of becoming a healer long forgotten) on the condition that she finish her N.E.W.T.S. first. Harry, having enough of war and violence, decided to pursue a career in Quidditch instead landing the position of a Seeker for Puddlemere United (he was, after all, the best Seeker Gryffindor ever had) while Ron assumed the role of his late brother Fred and helped George run the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The three of them drifted from the path they were supposed to take when they were kids. The two settled for peace, a life outside of politics while the other one decided to climb to the top of the food chain, reforming the system from the inside to prevent another madman from inciting another war.

Almost seven months went by since the final battle. Roughly 2 million witches and wizards are now living peacefully—all except two.

\---

Her apparition landed her in front of the gates of the Manor. Hermione wobbled slightly on her feet, feeling unsure how to proceed now and wondering at the same time if the wards surrounding the property will permit someone like her to enter the place. She didn't survive the war only to die by some Muggleborn hating wards. Dread filled her instantly, but she didn’t need to ponder that long because the gates instantly swung open for her, as if it were expecting her, beckoning her to enter.

It’s been ten months since the last time she’d been here, and she realized that she’d never seen what the Manor looked like from the outside. It was beautiful and well maintained despite what happened here during the war.  
  
Tentatively, she took a step, and then another, and soon found herself in front of his study. She didn’t know how she got there, it's as if there was an invisible force guiding her, showing her the path. The doors were already open like the gates outside, like the entire property is welcoming her back, recognizing her as the new Lady of the Manor. It infuriated Hermione and she used it to fuel her anger more. She immediately scanned the room in search of the wizard in question and found him sitting behind his huge mahogany desk writing on a piece of parchment. Beside him were a couple of leather-bound books, stacks of parchments and scrolls.

The last time she'd seen him was the day Voldemort was finally defeated. She wanted to approach him, talk to him, even hug him but he was talking to his son, so Hermione took one last longing look, turned around and joined her friends in celebration.

He looked better. _It's the robes,_ Hermione mused. To blend with the Muggles, he had to forgo the Wizarding robes and wear Muggle clothing like jeans and a shirt, much to her amusement and his disgust. Now sitting there, he looked regal in a crisp black dress shirt underneath a midnight black robe and an emerald green cravat around his neck. Face cleanly shaven once more and his hair was back to its shining glory. The urge to run her fingers through it as she used to before made her feel bereft.

Hermione tried to ignore the odd feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, tried to arrange her facial expression to some semblance of anger or at the very least, annoyance.

“Why haven’t you signed the papers, Lucius?”

He didn’t look up from his desk. Hermione wondered if he’s ignoring her or he just simply didn’t hear her. _Arrogant bastard._ Hermione dragged the nearest chair she could find to his desk and sat there waiting patiently for him to acknowledge her presence. After a few minutes which felt like an eternity to her, Lucius finally set down his quill and looked up at her. Their eyes met and she found it hard to maintain her resolve, not when he’s looking at her that way, like that night almost eight months—_no, don’t go there._

“How are you, Hermione?”

“The war’s over—had been over for almost seven months. Voldemort’s gone, your son is safe, Lucius, and you’re a free man now. There’s no reason to continue this charade anymore so let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” she clasped her together in front of her lap. “The papers. I asked you to sign them and owl them back. It should have been done months ago.”

“How’s your work at the D.M.L.E.?”

“If you wanted information, you should have properly answered my owls. Now, I’m here, and I want you to sign the papers and give them to me,” she crossed her legs, prepared to wait. She leaned back on the chair, seemingly relaxed, but they both know the truth, she’s angry with him.

“How is Draco?”

“He’s doing fine,” she answered looking down. “Now, the papers. I have a schedule to keep. So, if you don’t mind.” Yes, keep it precise to the point and be casual.

“Why the hurry,” he drawled, and Hermione was doing her best to combat what she was feeling, what he was conveying. “Marrying someone else?”

“You know why,” it was almost a whisper and she wondered if he heard her or not.

“No, I don’t. Please do enlighten me, _ma moitié_.”

She felt faint and said a silent thanks to Merlin that she’s sitting or else her she would’ve fallen and crumble onto the floor. The way he said the endearment had finally undone her.

It started as an inside joke between them when the concierge at a Muggle hotel in Paris mistook him for her father. She immediately corrected him saying that Lucius is her ‘better half’ (she didn’t want to say the word ‘husband’) playing the role of a besotted newlywed. Lucius joked that between the two of them, she’s actually the ‘better’ one. He started calling her that pet name ever since, often out of mock endearment, but sometimes...

Tears were now pooling in her eyes and Hermione was fighting hard to control her emotions. She sat up straight, summoned her Gryffindor courage, and bravely looked him in the eye—which she instantly regretted because the words that came out of her mouth were not the ones she was going to say.

“Because this is a business contract, and it is beginning to not feel like one.”

_Shit._ So much for keeping this as casual as possible.

Hermione will never know when the line she drew between them disappeared—how they turned from mutual hatred to mutual respect and then eventually to... what? She’s still trying to figure out what they are now and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a clue either. But she could feel it whenever they’re both in the same room, the tension between them was so thick she could slice it with a rusted butter knife.

She had agreed to marry him so no matter what happened they could be near each other, be there for each other, protect each other. So, wasn’t it ironic now that they were safe, they would be separated by choice, that they would live apart, move on from one another, have little to nothing to do with one another—permanently? If Hermione wasn’t so torn on the inside, she would’ve laughed.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hermione. I don’t know how to stop you from feeling something.”

“Yes, you do. You know exactly how you manipulative bastard. And that is part of the problem, isn’t it? You promised me. You told me you would file it as soon as the war was over,” she was furious, her voice rising an octave higher. It’s better than crying, right? “I waited seven goddamn months Lucius! I waited until your trial was over, waited until your house arrest was over, but I sure as hell am not going to wait another month more! Sign the papers!”

She stood then on shaky legs and made her way to the doors, a desperate need to escape the room, to escape him. But, as she reached the threshold, his voice stopped her.

“Hermione,” he stood and came around to face her, standing directly in front of her, close enough to touch. “I’m not signing them,” he told her with the same conviction he had that night he proposed the idea to her. “The papers? I’m not signing them. We're not done yet so, you can go ahead and go. Keep your schedule. Because I'm not signing anything.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead and walked out of the room. Hermione leaned her back against the door, feeling more confused than ever about the wizard’s decision. For someone who entered this... deal as reluctantly as she was, if not more so, she couldn’t comprehend why he wasn’t trying to find a way out the moment an opportunity presented itself—which was a lot.  
  
_You know why. You just don’t want to admit it to yourself_.  
  
“I really need that cigarette right now,” she muttered into the empty room. This was not how she wanted to spend her Saturday afternoon.


	2. White Lie

**February 1998.**

“Are you ready?”

“Is anyone ever?”

“Touché, Miss Granger,” he held out a chipped mug in front of her, gesturing for her to grab ahold. “We can’t apparate out of the country. The ministry placed an Anti-Disapparition Jinx all over the place and they're monitoring the floo network so we have to use a portkey.”

“I didn’t know you can apparate that far away,” she said with awe and hint of jealousy. She’d seen the wizard do a bit of wandless magic since You-Know-Who took his wand and Hermione had to wonder what the man couldn’t do. “The only other person I knew who could do it was Dumbledore.”

“I was frequently away on business trips, some required my immediate presence. Acquiring a portkey at the last minute is a daunting task, so I trained myself in Inter-continental Apparition,” he shrugged but there was a smug look on his face. He then turned to her and regarded her seriously. “Although, an intelligent witch like you, I’m sure you can master it easily.”

Did Lucius Malfoy just compliment her? Hermione can’t help but blush a deep shade of red. She’s used to people complimenting her, especially her intelligence but those people weren’t Lucius Malfoy. It felt like she’s achieved a milestone or something.

“Right,” she said awkwardly. “So where are we going?”

“I believe the Muggles call it ‘La Ville Lumière’.”

“We’re going to Paris?!” she said excitedly, her initial embarrassment completely forgotten.

“It’s near enough that we could return in a matter of hours using the Muggle way of transportation but also far away that we can move freely. We can plan our next steps without looking over our shoulder every hour,” he explained. Lucius held out the chipped mug again. “Now let’s go.”

As Hermione’s fingers encircled the mug, her slender fingers brushed his and she felt a frisson of electricity go through her body. She looked up and saw him looking at her with the same expression. “Um, shall we go then, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Call me Lucius. We are, after all, going to be married in a few minutes.”

Before she could utter a reply, he softly whispered the portkey password and they were both pulled into nothingness towards their destination.

\---

They landed on the edge of a vast park secluded with large bushes and trees. It was past afternoon, the sun already starting to set. Hermione looked around and decided that the parks of Paris were even more beautiful in reality than all of their painted images stored in the local museums she used to visit when she was young—before she became a witch.

It’s been four days since that fateful night where they both 'agreed' to get married. They spent the first three days apart with Lucius trying to contact his ‘associate’ that would help them escape Britain while Hermione tried to figure out a way to find Harry, Ron, and Draco—assuming the latter was still with them.

She came up empty-handed when they met back in their hotel room.

_“I don’t understand how they can just disappear like that. Not a single trace of magic,” she said as she plopped down the couch. Lucius sat on the other end bent over the coffee table writing on a piece of parchment. “I love my friends but they’re not exactly reliable with these kinds of things. Harry only knew basic wards and spells whereas Ron... well, he’s good at finishing the food supply.”_

_Lucius snorted. “As expected of a Weasley.”_

_“Hey! The Weasleys are good people!” She snatched a piece of parchment off the table, crumpled it and threw it towards the wizard on the other end. The crumpled parchment went over his head, missing it by an inch._

_“Will you please stop throwing things at me? You’re wasting a good piece of parchment,” he sat straighter and shot her a glare. “Barbaric Muggleborn,” he muttered under his breath._

_“I heard that!” She was about to grab another one when he immediately snatched the entire stack of parchments off the table. “Arrogant Pureblood prat,” she grumbled._

_“I heard that witch!”_

_Silence befell the two, only the scratching sound of the quill against parchment could be heard. After a moment, Lucius stood and went over to her, handing her two folded parchments. “I need you to owl the—don’t read them!”_

_“You own Muggle money?” She asked surprised as she finished reading the first letter._

_“Of course I do. I have numerous investments in the Muggle world,” he said matter-of-factly, snatching the letters from her hands._

_“But you hate Muggles!”_

_“I never said that.”_

_“It was implied through your actions.”_

_“Why do I always have to explain myself to you?” Lucius sighed and sat back on the end of the couch. “Just owl these letters. We need Muggle money if we’re going to hide with the Muggles.”_

_“I guess you’re right. Plus we also need to buy some Muggle clothes—well, you at the very least, need to buy Muggle clothes.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“We can’t have you walking around in public looking like a gentleman from a renaissance painting brought to life!”_

_"Fine then!"_

_"We also need to cut your hair. It'll stand ou—oof" Hermione was cut off when a throw pillow smacked right into her face and the sound of a door slamming shut reverberated in the entire room. "Guess that's a no then," she mumbled._

And that’s how they both ended up spending their last day in Britain. Shopping for clothes in a Muggle store with Lucius Malfoy had been a terrible yet amusing experience. Every single time she would pick something off the rack, he would immediately turn it down saying he would not have his wife—fake or not—wear a tawdry dress. She eventually brought him to a more upscale location seeing as they would take forever if they stayed in a local outlet store. When they emerged from the shop a few hours later, they were both struggling to carry a handful of paper bags.

Hermione was wearing an ivory white halter dress with a side slit a bit high for her taste, but the couturier assured her that it looked marvelous on her, that it showcased her smooth legs. She was too busy arguing to notice Lucius leaning on the side gazing at her, his pale grey eyes turning a shade darker. For his part, Lucius was wearing a starched shirt underneath an immaculate grey three-piece suit. They also argued for a good half hour with Hermione wanting to forgo the cravat in favor of a tie. Lucius eventually relented but not without throwing a few choice words about her upbringing and lack of style. Hermione ignored the jab and mentally raised her fist in the air.

“This way,” he placed a hand on her back and gestured her towards their destination. It was a simple gesture, but she could feel the heat emanating from his palm through her dress.

When they passed a café with the floor to ceiling windows, she had to stifle a gasp at the reflection. They make a striking pair with Hermione walking beside her soon-to-be fake husband. Her hair was tied to a French updo with a few strands falling on the side while Lucius’ hair was tied back behind with a black ribbon. It’s like they came out of a Muggle high fashion magazine, the ones her parents used to keep in the lobby of their clinic.

Hermione was starting to notice the curious stares they were attracting on their way to their destination and she tried to ignore them, tried her best to focus on her surroundings instead. This was when she noticed the area.

She’d been here when she was eight as a tag-a-long at her parents’ tenth anniversary. Hermione felt a wave of sadness overcame her as she remembered them. It had seemed a lifetime ago, the last time she saw them, and now their only child—the one they couldn’t remember—was getting married to a stranger. A stranger that once tried to kill her in the Department of Mysteries, a stranger twice her age.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Lucius glanced at her and Hermione was surprised to notice a hint of concern on his face, but it was gone in an instant.

They continued walking until they reached their destination. As they entered through the double doors, Hermione felt the wards passed through her body and noticed that it must be the kind of wards that prevent Muggles from wandering and entering the place.

It was beautiful. The interior looked quite similar to Britain’s except the entire building seemed to be covered in magical glass making it less stuffy. The headquarters is comprised of domes connected by a network of tunnels styled in what she could describe as art nouveau.

Hermione barely had time to take in the delightful sight when a wizard with an unruly mop of dark hair that reminded her of Harry approached them.

“Lucius, old friend! It’s been a long time!” The wizard effused. Lucius gave him a firm handshake and a brief hug which Hermione found amusing. She’d never seen him this affectionate.

“Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice, Antoine.”

“Nonsense! After what you did for me all those years ago, this is the least I could do,” he then turned to Hermione and smiled at her. “And this must be the future Mrs. Malfoy.”

Hermione tried to ignore the voices at the back of her mind at the mention of her being 'the future Mrs. Malfoy’.

Lucius introduced the wizard as Antoine Sauveterre, an official working in The Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. Antoine raised her hand and pressed a brief kiss on the back of her knuckles. “_Enchanté, mademoiselle._”

“_Tout le plaisir est pour moi, monsieur,_” Hermione replied demurely in a perfect French accent which earned her a surprised look from Lucius.

Antoine chuckled and winked at the stunned wizard. “I can see why you’re eager to marry this lovely witch, my friend. Afraid someone might snatch her away?”

“Something like that,” Lucius replied flatly but despite the tone of his voice, Hermione could detect a hint of flush coloring his normally pale features.

“You’ve always been a romantic at heart, Lucius—marrying at the City of Love and on Valentine’s Day no less.”

_Valentine’s Day?_ She was preoccupied with her search for her friends that she failed to notice the date. The two exchanged surprised looks, but it was Lucius who recovered first. “I assure you, Antoine, it's just a coincidence.”

"One thing you'll learn my friend is that there are no coincidences when it comes to love."

The French wizard then accompanied them further into the headquarters, all the while explaining how wizarding marriages take place here in France—which was not entirely different from Britain. They finally reached an office with a sign affixed on top of the double doors that says ‘Office des Mariages’.

“We’re here,” he announced. “As much as I wanted to stay and witness your wedding my friend, I’m afraid I’m urgently needed elsewhere.”

“It’s alright Antoine. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Congratulations in advance, Lucius.” They both shook hands and Antoine turned to her and bowed. “Que ce grand jour marque le début d’une grande histoire entre vous deux.”

Hermione blushed and muttered a sincere thank you in French. She looked up to see Lucius staring at her oddly again.

“Shall we, mademoiselle?”

\---

The wedding was as unceremonious a thing as it could be, but legal and binding as any traditional wizarding wedding. Antoine proved to be very efficient and had secretly arranged everything they could need. They had both agreed that there would be no ring, no outward sign of what they had done, except the paperwork with both of their signatures that told the story well enough. There was proof of what they did if it was ever required. If they survived the war and all ended well, as they hoped it would, they could divorce, and no one would be the wiser.

They both stood side by side as the magistrate in front of them recite the words. It was only then when a light aura surrounded them, and the magistrate proclaimed them ‘mari et femme’ did Hermione realize that they had to kiss.

_Shit. What have I gotten myself into?_

Her brain hadn’t caught up to this part yet, hadn’t thought farther than the signing of papers. But before she could do something stupid like go into hysterics or run away, a hand grabbed hers and squeezed it gently.

"Hermione," he said quietly that the magistrate failed to hear it. The sheer shock of hearing him pronounce her given name was so palpable that she felt her knees buckle. She raised her eyes to his without thinking and what she saw there shocked her more. Was it tenderness? Fondness? Hermione was at lost for words and she would’ve laughed at herself if she weren’t so captivated by it all. Lucius Malfoy looking at her with something akin to affection? Perhaps this was all just a wild dream and Hermione would wake up in her bed in the Gryffindor dorm room.

But this wasn’t a dream. She’s here now standing in front of the magistrate, about to be wed, about to be kissed by Lucius sodding Malfoy. _Merlin, forgive me._

Lucius lifted a hand so that his slender fingers rested lightly on her neck and his palm cupped her jaw. He leaned in closer, their nose touching and their mouths an inch apart. He was just there, hovering as if waiting for something and it suddenly dawned on Hermione that he was waiting for her permission. _Since when did he ask for permission?_ But he didn’t have to wait that long because she met him halfway, touching her lips ever so gently to his, much to Lucius’ surprise.  
  
The kiss was brief, just long enough to make it look convincing to the magistrate but Hermione felt breathless and almost senseless and she felt a huge amount of satisfaction at seeing she’s not the only one affected by the kiss. His face was heavily flushed, and his eyes were almost as dark as hers.

The magistrate cleared his throat and the trance between the two was broken. He was looking at the newly married couple apologetically, ashamed at having to disturb such an ‘intimate’ moment.

"Congratulations, Mister and Missus Malfoy," the magistrate said as he shook Lucius's hand and kissed Hermione on the cheek in farewell. He then called in the secretary to give the newlyweds the necessary papers.

Hermione left the headquarters in a daze. She was married. Married. The word kept running inside her mind. _Married, married, married._ She'd always thought that once she chose to marry that she would deeply love her husband and would stay married. _Married._ It was so unlike anything she had ever imagined. She could always pretend it was the case. A little white lie—_no, perish that thought._

“I believe a celebration is in order? I know this lovely little restaurant just around the corner. They serve the most amazing Coq au Vin I’ve ever tasted.” Lucius interrupted her thoughts and held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we, Mrs. Malfoy?”

She chanced a glance and noticed Lucius was smiling at her—a genuine smile that lit up his pale grey eyes. His face was completely relaxed and even boyish as the setting sun catches the blond of his eyelashes. He looked decades younger in that moment and Hermione felt her insides churning. For a moment, she would pretend that this was real, that she married for love. Just this once.

“Lead the way, husband,” she replied, taking the proffered arm.

The sound of his carefree laughter forever echoed in her mind.

* * *

**November 1998.**

“So, how was your weekend?”

Hermione decided to ignore him for the moment and wheezed past him. She smacked her coffee cup onto the table, and it made a sloshing sound as she plopped down her chair.

“That great, huh?”

Draco Malfoy dragged his chair across the office they share and parked it in front of her desk.

“Spill it, Granger.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just...” She took a sip from her cup and smacked it again on the table, the coffee almost spilling out. Draco gently pushed the documents away to avoid being spilled at. “...family matters.” There, it wasn’t a total lie, was it? Technically, being married to Lucius Malfoy makes him family and, on that logic, so is Draco.

Draco Malfoy, my stepson._ Ugh._

Hermione could already feel the beginnings of a migraine coming in.

Draco arched his eyebrow in a way that is similar to his father and Hermione felt her stomach twist in knots. _Great._ Not only she has a headache but also her stomach is doing somersaults now.

Seven months ago, after the Second Wizarding War, Hermione Granger decided to go back to Hogwarts to take her N.E.W.T.S. despite already being offered the Auror position by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. Upon her return, she was surprised to find Draco Malfoy as one of the returning students.

The Malfoy men were pardoned by Kingsley upon learning of the family’s defection early on in the war and their help in defeating Voldemort although Lucius Malfoy was given a five-month house arrest and a huge sum of financial reparation on account of his past crimes. Harry and Hermione agreed on the verdict, but Ron thought that Malfoy Sr. got out light.

Hermione refused to attend the trials and had let Harry and Ron do the testifying. She was afraid that if she took to the stands, their secret would come out in the open. A part of her also didn’t want to face him again, didn’t trust her emotions to be in control in front of him. Godric Gryffindor was probably turning in his grave at her cowardice.

Two days later, she found out from the Daily Prophet about the verdict and Hermione was finally able to breathe properly again—well, only briefly.

During the trial, she was afraid that Lucius might’ve told his son but eventually found out that Malfoy Jr. was clueless of his father and Hermione’s ‘arrangement’. She confirmed this when Draco approached her one day, asking him to be his study partner since they’re the only two people in their batch who had decided to return. After a lengthy speech from Draco about his past sins and how he wanted to atone for them starting with her, Hermione couldn’t find it in her not to accept his apology much to Draco’s relief and surprise. The two eventually became good friends.

After graduation, Hermione immediately began training as an Auror. A week after that, Draco Malfoy joined the trainees much to her surprise and now they’re partners and share an office. When she asked him why he decided to become an Auror too when clearly there are other better paying and less dangerous jobs out there waiting for him (e.g. his father’s company, Malfoy Industries), he only shrugged and said that it’s part of his atonement. That was the day Hermione saw Draco Malfoy in a new light.

It was a struggle to keep the secret from her partner especially how he seemed to trust her with his secrets of his own. Hermione found out that he had a falling out with his father and had moved out of the Manor right after the trial and is now staying at an apartment in Hogsmeade.

The reason for the falling out was because he finally admitted that he’s gay and is currently secretly dating the one and only Harry Potter. The boys were keeping mum about the details of their relationship, but Hermione would bet every precious book she owned that it started during the horcrux hunt. The time Hermione got separated from the two with Draco taking her place instead.

At first, she was hurt and jealous that Draco took her place as the brains of the group, he is after all the second smartest wizard in their batch, if not the first (which is her). But looking back, she couldn’t seem to regret it, and she’d been eternally grateful to Draco for keeping her two friends sane and alive throughout the quest for the horcruxes and the final battle with Voldemort. She knew all too well how difficult it was.

The wizard in question was still scrutinizing her, so Hermione shifted in her seat and decided to change the subject. “How was _your_ weekend?”

To her amusement, her partner turned a bright shade of pink and remained silent, his gazed fixed on a piece of parchment on her table.

“_That great, huh?_”

“Very clever, Granger.”

“Brightest witch of her age, Malfoy,” she winked at him. “Now, spill the details.”

“Harry took me to a Muggle amusement park. It was fun.”

“I said details!”

“There isn’t much to tell, well... except I’d never ride those... spinning... things again! How those Muggles find enjoyment with those torture machines, I’ll never understand. I think I’ve vomited an entire day’s worth food.” Draco visibly shuddered at the memory.

“To each their own, I guess. I, myself, hate riding the roller coaster. Almost fainted halfway through.”

“Oh is that the train-like ride that goes up and extremely fast?” At her nod, her partner immediately turned a bright shade of pink again.

Hermione covered her mouth and sported a fake mortified look. “Merlin in knickers! What did you two do there?”

“Oh sod off, Granger,” he waved her off dismissively, but Hermione could still see a faint blush coloring his cheeks and tips of his ears.

“Don’t worry Malfoy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You better or I’ll hex you off into oblivion. Well, anyway,” he stood up and dragged his chair back to his desk and started for the door. “I’m getting coffee. You want a refill of that?” He gestured to the almost empty cup on her table.

“Yes please.”

As soon as the door closed, Hermione heard a tap on the window and turned to see a familiar eagle owl holding a letter. Silently thanking Merlin for the owl’s impeccable timing, she hurriedly grabbed the letter, fed the owl some treats and tried to send it on its way, but it wouldn’t budge. It was then that Hermione realized that it was waiting for her reply. She picked up the letter that bore the Malfoy crest and immediately read the contents.

> _Hermione,_
> 
> _I recently discovered a Muggle restaurant that specializes in French cuisine. Join me for dinner? I’ll pick you up at 7._
> 
> _Yours,_   
_LM_

Hermione immediately balled the piece of parchment into her fist and threw it in the trash. As if that wasn’t enough, she pulled out her wand and sent a fire spell towards the bin and watched smugly as the parchment disintegrated into ashes. She seemed to be burning a lot of letters lately—well only letters from Lucius Malfoy.

Even though it was phrased as a question, the tone of the letter brooked no argument. If she told him no, she’s pretty sure he’d turn up anyway and that simply won’t do. She can’t have Lucius Malfoy popping into her home or, to her horror, her work to drag her ass to dinner. That insufferable man always gets what he wants—one way or another.

Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment off her desk, wrote a quick reply telling him to pick her up at her home and attached it to the eagle owl. She gave it one last owl treat before sending it off flying to its master.

She briefly wondered what his motives were behind this sudden ‘invitation’ to dinner and Hermione came up with nothing. The man can be a total enigma sometimes. Maybe she could use this dinner to her advantage and convince him to finally sign the papers.

“I need a cigarette,” she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

And that’s how Draco found her. Leaning beside the opened window of their office, a cigarette in hand.

“I really should introduce you to some good cigars. The one you’re using smells like the dying breath of that flat-nosed madman,” he parked his bum on the edge of her desk as he placed another cup of coffee on top of it, flicking the previous empty cup into the trash. “Burning parchments again?”

“What do you know of good cigars? You don’t even smoke,” she said, ignoring the question about the burnt parchment in the bin.

“I don’t. But my father does.” Draco was busy sipping his cup of coffee that he missed the blush that crept on his partner’s face. “He has boxes of those imported Cubans that smells really good.”

“I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with your father?”

“Still am, but that doesn’t mean I’m not on speaking terms with the house elves. I could ask them to lift a box or two from father’s collection in his study.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Lu—Mr. Malfoy would kill you, you know that?”

If Draco noticed the near slip, he hid it well. Like father like son indeed. “Oh, he won’t. I’m his only heir. If there’s one thing my father cares about, it’s the family name.”

“Or his hair.” She said sarcastically, extinguishing the cigarette with a flick of her hand and dumped it into the bin. Hermione grabbed the coffee cup and took a sip, letting the bitter taste of coffee wash out the aftertaste of the cigarette.

“Do you have a thing for my father’s hair?

Hermione nearly choked on her coffee. “I-I most certainly do not!” She sputtered.

_Liar._ The voice inside her head accused her.

“Then why are you looking so flustered?” Hermione shot him a look that clearly says ‘drop it or be hexed’ but Draco, unlike Ron and Harry, seemed to be immune to her glares (oh, I knew someone who’s also immune to my glares) and decided to continue. “I wouldn’t fault you if you do, Granger. All those months you spent together on the run. You’re not the first witch—or wizard—to fall in love with my father’s hair.”

“I am not!” She slammed her palm on the table nearly toppling the stack of papers off.

“Calm your knickers, Granger. I was just messing with you, geez. I guess father did get under your skin, huh?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed.

“One of these days you have to tell me what the hell happened to the two of you after we got separated that night,” Draco stared off into the distance pretty much similar to the way his father does when he’s contemplating something. Hermione felt her heart clench. She had to stop thinking about Lucius, but it seemed impossible when every gesture Draco does remind her of him. “Perhaps you could tell it over dinner tonight! Harry’s ordering Chinese and he’s going to teach me how to use clapsticks.”

“It’s chopsticks and I don’t want to intrude on your date night.”

“Oh pish posh!” Draco waved his free hand in front of him as if dusting some imaginary dust. “Harry’s been nagging me to invite you over for weeks now.”

“If he really wanted to see me, he could’ve just dropped by my flat. And besides, I have a meeting with someone tonight.”

“Who could you possibly meet on a Monday night?” Draco scrunched up his nose and narrowed his eyes at his partner. Then, after a beat. “You have a date!”

“It’s not a date!” Hermione said defensively, crossing her arms across her chest. “I need to sign some papers regarding... family matters.” Way to go, Hermione. Ten points to Gryffindor for the lame excuse.

But Draco seemed to have bought it since his lips formed an O shape. “Oh right, your parents. You’re trying to get their memory back.”

Hermione internally winced. She didn’t have the heart to tell Draco that she had already flown to Australia to try and regain her parents’ memories of her when he was busy in the Ministry for his and his father’s trial. It was a futile effort, however. The spell she used was a modified version of Obliviate, one no one had ever done before. She came back home empty-handed and cried herself for days.

A knock came from the door of their office and the two looked up as Blaise Zabini poked his head through the open door. “Hey, you two. We have a meeting in ten minutes. Robards wants to brief us about the location of the remaining Death Eaters.”

“We’ll be there,” Hermione replied.

As Blaise disappeared and the door closed, Draco slumped in his chair and sighed. “I wish I could help you.”

“It’s alright Malfoy. It’s my problem to solve,” Hermione wasn’t so sure if she’s talking about her parents or her current predicament with Lucius Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tout le plaisir est pour moi, monsieur. (The pleasure is all mine, sir.)  
*Que ce grand jour marque le début d’une grande histoire entre vous deux. (May this day mark the beginning of a great story between you two.)
> 
> My French is abysmal so if you know the language and if you think my grammar is lousy, please don't hesitate to correct me.
> 
> Also, I'll try to upload a new chapter every Friday or weekends.


	3. Fickle Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot I was writing this fic. Also: I have a habit of naming chapter titles with songs I listen to when writing the said chapter.

**February 1998.**

“I didn’t know you could speak French.”

“My father was half-French, spent most of his childhood on the outskirts of Bordeaux,” she replied as she swirled the wine in her glass in a very French manner. “He insisted I learn the language.”

They ended up having an early dinner at the restaurant Lucius had mentioned. It was technically still winter but the weather that time was unseasonably warm so it was comfortable enough to have their meal al fresco. A light breeze would catch her hair now and then, a few strands escaping the hairpins and she’d twirl a tendril away from her face absently and tuck it behind her ear.

Dinner was a silent affair at first with the two of them enjoying the coq au vin Lucius had ordered. It was indeed delicious as was the dessert that followed. Hermione ordered crème brûlée while Lucius just asked for a refill of his wine—a very expensive wine by the looks of it.

“So how did you know Antoine? You seemed… close.” she'd been dying to ask that question ever since she met the charming French wizard.

He eyed her over the rim of his wine. “A childhood friend. Both of our fathers were business partners.”

“Oh, I see.”

Silence.

“Spill it out.”

“What?”

“You obviously still have a lot of questions, Hermione and since I’m in the mood, I’m going to indulge them.”

She’s still not used to hearing Lucius Malfoy call her by her given name. It felt way too familiar to her liking plus it sends an odd feeling down her spine to the tips of her toes.

“Ugh!” She slammed the glass of wine on the table a bit forcefully. “Stop reading my mind!”

Lucius gave her a smirk. “I didn’t have to. Your face says it all, my dear.”

“Whatever,” she picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

“I saved Antione from a loveless marriage,” Lucius began and Hermione looked up in surprise, not fully expecting that kind of answer from him. _Oh Merlin, was he really a romantic at heart?_ “I’m sure you’re aware of the fact that arranged marriages are a common thing among Purebloods.”

The witch snorted. “To preserve your oh-so-pure bloodline?”

“Believe it or not my dear, only a handful of Pureblood families practice inbreeding.”

“And you Malfoys are not one of those Pureblood families?”

“Of course not!” Lucius said in a scandalized tone. “We drew the line at incest. We do not want to taint our genes with insanity like the Lestranges and the Blacks.”

Hermione looked down at her now empty wine glass, contemplating whether she should ask this question. But she decided to throw caution to the wind and asked anyway, drawing courage from the alcohol. It won’t make a difference if he answered or not. “Then why marry Narcissa? She was a Black, wasn’t she?”

The wizard stayed silent for a moment, staring at the surrounding. His eyes landed on a couple sitting across their table. “I was never meant to marry Narcissa. My father wanted me to marry an Italian witch whose father owns a large conglomerate business in Italy. He wanted to expand his company so they struck a deal.”

“That’s evil!” Hermione was horrified at the revelation. “He can’t just trade his son’s personal life like some commodity!”

But Lucius just gave her a bland smile. “I’m touched by your concern, Hermione, but it’s how it is in my world. I had a responsibility to fulfill as an heir.”

“An heir? Sounds to me like he treats you like a dog—or a slave—to follow his every command without question.”

“My mother would’ve liked you.”

Hermione was caught off guard by the comment. To be honest, sitting in a Muggle restaurant while sipping a glass of expensive wine and conversing civilly with Lucius Malfoy was something she would never think to experience in her lifetime, but here they are. To his credit though, the wizard was a good conversationalist.

“So, err, how did you end up marrying Narcissa instead?”

“When my father pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord, his Italian business partner wasn’t happy about it. He called the entire deal off. Father was furious but joining the ranks of Death Eaters was more important to him than a mere business deal.” Lucius sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I was in my final year at Hogwarts, and I just came home for the Christmas break when I heard the news about Narcissa's betrothal to Antoine.”

“Antoine and Narcissa? But—oh,” Hermione butted in, the gears in her head turning and whirring, finally making the connection. “How did you convince your father to let you marry Narcissa?”

“The Blacks were extreme supporters of the Dark Lord so all it took was a few convincing words to my father about the advantages of joining houses with the Black family. It was luck that Antoine’s father was already having doubts about the betrothal at that time. Our fathers talked and another deal was struck. Antoine ended up marrying a witch of his own choosing and I married Narcissa after she graduated from Hogwarts.”

Hermione didn’t know whether she should be amazed at his cunningness or feel sorry that he was deprived of his choices at such a young age. She’d only known about the Pureblood tradition of arranged marriages from Ginny when Hermione was staying at the Burrow but to know the story firsthand was an entirely different matter. She felt her opinions about the Malfoy patriarch being torn down.

“It’s getting late,” Lucius said as he flagged the waiter for the bill. “We should retire for the night.”

Hermione blinked, pulling herself from her reverie. “Where are we going to stay?”

“There’s a hotel not too far from here.” When the bill was settled, he slipped the waiter a handful of Muggle money. The waiter wished them a lovely night and left. “We could apparate but I don’t think it’s wise given our current inebriated condition.”

Lucius stood up and went over to her side, helping her stand up like the perfect gentleman that he is. Hermione was grateful for it since she hadn’t realized she’d drank too much wine and was already little tipsy. A little walk might do her some good to clear her head.

The hotel looked a bit run down on the outside but the interior looked recently renovated. There were a few patrons milling in the lobby but Hermione kept a close eye on her surroundings just in case.

The Muggle receptionist greeted them as they approached. “_Bonsoir Madame, Monsieur, comment puis-je vous aider?_”

“We would like a room,” Lucius replied.

“I’m sorry Monsieur, but we only have a one-bedroom room available. Are you and your daughter okay with it?

“Excuse me?” Lucius snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her possessively to his side. Hermione could feel his hand through the flimsy layers of her dress and it’s sending shivers all over her body. She’s pretty sure Lucius felt it too because he started running his thumb in circles on her waist. Hermione wanted to swat his hand away but it would definitely look suspicious if she did.

They got married so that acquiring a room in hotels would be easier but here they are in a hotel lobby in Paris, being mistaken for a father and a daughter. Hermione wanted to laugh at the irony. And to think that with the way she’s dressed right now, she thought that she’d have a higher chance of people assuming she’s his young mistress instead of his daughter.

Lucius was about to open his mouth again but Hermione beat him to it. The last thing she needed was to look for another hotel because Lucius couldn’t reign in his temper and got them kicked out. She was dead tired and drunk plus her shoes are killing her feet.

“_Oh, il n'est pas mon père,_” Hermione replied in rapid French, not giving Lucius an opportunity to butt in. “_Il est en fait ma meilleure moitié. Nous nous sommes récemment mariés et sommes en lune de miel. C'était une décision impulsive, donc on n'a pas pu réserver une chambre d'hôtel à l'avance._”

Hermione leaned further into Lucius and wrapped her arm around his waist for added effect. She felt him stiffened but immediately relaxed.

The receptionist's eyes widened with horror at his mistake and apologized profusely. “_Je suis profondément désolé Madame, Monsieur,_” he glanced at the computer and typed Immediately. After a few seconds, he looked back at the couple in front of him and smiled apologetically. “For how long will the lovely couple be staying?”

“A week,” Lucius answered through gritted teeth as he handed the Muggle credit card a bit forcefully on the counter. Hermione gripped his waist tighter as a warning.

The receptionist swiped the card and shakily handed it back to the fuming wizard along with a keycard for their room. “_Profitez de votre séjour ici._”

Before Lucius could say anything, Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the lift, thanking the receptionist as they walked away. When they reached the lift, Hermione realized that she was still holding his hand and immediately dropped it but Lucius reached out and grasped it, gently tugging her towards him.

He leaned forward, his face a few inches from hers and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to kiss her but instead he titled his head to the side and whispered in her ear. “Don't downplay your worth, my dear. It’s quite obvious you are the better half in this relationship.”

The sound of her rapid beating heart was the only thing she could hear as the lift ascended to their floor.

* * *

**November 1998.**

“Mione are you there?”

Hermione was putting the finishing touches of her makeup when her Floo flared to life with the green flames of an incoming call. Five seconds later, Ronald Weasley stuck his head in and called for her.

“In the bedroom!” came the muffled reply.

Ron stepped through the flames into the living area and dusted off some of the soot from his robes. He knocked first when he reached her bedroom before entering. “I need your hel—oh wow. You look bloody hot, Mione. Got a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date!”

“Sure it is. Who’s the lucky bloke?” Ron leaned on the doorway and was fighting off a smirk as he watched her struggle for words. “What would _your husband_ say if he finds out you’re meeting someone else? You do know extramarital affairs are extremely frowned upon in the wizarding world?”

“I am meeting _my husband_, you egg!” she threw a piece of crumpled tissue at him but it only landed a foot before him.

“What happened? I thought you two were gonna settle the divorce?” Ron walked around her and sat at the foot of her bed.

Hermione sighed and put down the hairbrush before facing her friend.

A week after the war was over, Ron tried to rebuild their relationship and hopefully rekindle the flame that still burned inside him and he was sure must still be there somewhere deep inside Hermione.

But days passed and every move he tried to make was rebuffed and by the time Hermione was about to go back to Hogwarts, Ron has had enough and confronted her. The answer he got was not he had been expecting at all.

She told him the entire story starting from the night they got separated at the Manor until the final battle at the Great Hall. Explained to him why they couldn’t be together anymore. Ron was livid at Lucius Malfoy for ruining whatever chance he had at a relationship with Hermione. Eventually, with a sinking heart, he had no choice but to accept that the woman he dearly loved will never be his and instead offered her his friendship and the promise that he will be there for her no matter what.

He stayed true to his word. Ron was there for her through it all, even gave her an excuse when she told him and Harry that she didn’t want to go to the Malfoys’ trial and instead testified on her behalf. He was also there as a shoulder to cry on when Hermione couldn’t retrieve her parents’ memories.

Ron had eventually let go of his feelings for her and moved on. When she’d finally graduated from Hogwarts, he told her that he recently got back with Lavender Brown. Hermione was skeptical of Lavender at first, having only unpleasant memories of the witch during their time in Hogwarts. She even checked Ron if he was under some potion or spell much to her friend’s chagrin, but Hermione found nothing. Soon, she realized that Lavender was not the same person she once was and that her relationship with Ron was genuine and both cared for each other deeply. War really changes people.

“He doesn’t want to sign the papers.” Hermione turned around from the mirror to face him “I don’t know what to do, Ron. I’m at my wit’s end here.”

“Did he say why he didn’t want to sign the papers?”

“No. After months of ignoring me, he finally sends me an owl a few hours ago at work asking me to have dinner with him.” Hermione checked the time and noticed that she still had thirty minutes left before Lucius comes knocking on her door. She finished her hair (she was extremely grateful that it decided to cooperate with her today) and put on her heels. “I’m only going just to convince him to sign the damn papers!”

“Why not enjoy the dinner while you’re there?” Ron just shrugged when Hermione shot her an incredulous look. “I meant the food.”

“Why are you even here anyway? Don’t you have a business to run?”

“George and I closed the shop early. I actually came here to ask for your help,” he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. “I’m planning on proposing tonight.”

“Sweet Circe, Ron! Congratulations!” She threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Hey, I haven’t asked the question yet,” Ron chuckled as Hermione pulled away. “I need your opinion, Hermione. I wanted it to be special, you know, something that she’ll fondly remember for the rest of our lives.”

Hermione thought for a moment until an idea struck her. “I know! Take her to that park where you asked her to be your girlfriend! Have Molly help you prepare you a picnic, she’d love that.”

“A picnic in the park at night? Hmm, odd but I think it’ll work.”

“Trust me. Nothing says like proposing in the same place you two started to fall in love.” Hermione glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes left. “Now, go and hurry.”

Hermione ushered Ron out of the bedroom and back to the living area. “I expect to hear the good news tomorrow.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ron replied as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

“I’d brew you a vial of Felix Felicis but I don’t think you’ll need it. She will say yes, Ron. She clearly loves you.”

“Thank you, Mione, and good luck with your date,” he smiled at her annoyed expression. “Hope everything goes well with us tonight.”

They said their goodbyes and a few minutes after Ron stepped through the flames, Hermione heard a knock on her door.

When she opened it, Hermione was greeted by the sight of Lucius Malfoy standing on her doorway holding a bouquet of red tulips.

“You look lovely,” he said as he took in her appearance approvingly. She was wearing a burgundy skater style dress that accentuated her curves and a pair of black stilettos. On top of it, she wore her black wool coat.

He handed her the flowers and she placed it on a vase she transfigured.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You look very nice as well.”

He himself had elected to wear Muggle clothes. Gone were the tailored robes and cravat, replaced by a dark grey herringbone tweed three-piece suit with a subtle tan and blue check pattern. He wore a cream-colored shirt underneath with a burgundy grenadine tie, and his hair was pulled back by a black silk ribbon.

“We matched,” he pointed to her dress and to his tie.

“Why do I get the feeling that it’s not a coincidence?” she raised an eyebrow at him but the wizard just smiled mysteriously at her.

“Shall we?” he said as she took his proffered arm and Hermione soon felt the pull of side-long apparition.

\---

They arrived at a secluded alley and Lucius steered her towards their destination. The restaurant was quiet and low lit, a bit hidden from view like a serene bubble far above the madness of central Muggle London. She’d been in fancy restaurants before, but nothing ever this posh and elegant. Hermione liked it.

Being on the run with Lucius Malfoy for a few months had made her accustomed to luxuries like this. A year ago, Hermione would’ve balked and felt out of place stepping inside this kind of establishment but now it felt like stepping inside Flourish and Blotts. A perk of being married to the richest wizard in Britain, she mused.

“This place is beautiful, Lucius. How did you find it?” Hermione said as Lucius pulled out a chair for her to sit.

“I was tired of eating in the Manor and decided to venture outside.” He explained as he sat across from her. “I was walking along Diagon Alley looking at restaurants, but nothing struck my fancy. I was in front of this establishment when I stopped walking, realizing that I had already entered Muggle London.”

Hermione felt a pang of sadness at the image of him eating alone in that enormous house.

“The wine here is good, the food even better, although their coq au vin wasn’t as great as the one in Paris,” he said as casual as he could, but she detected a hint of emotion in his voice.

Memories of their first dinner at that restaurant flooded Hermione’s brain and she can’t help but blush the same shade as her dress. She ducked her head and hid it behind the menu, deciding to focus her thoughts on ordering what food she wanted to eat instead.

Luckily, the waiter arrived to take their orders and Lucius looked expectantly at Hermione. His quirked eyebrow shook her out of her trance and she hurried to place her order while Lucius did the same.

Then they were alone again and despite her reservations about tonight and Lucius’ intentions, Hermione found herself enjoying not just the food—which was really good—but also the company. She’d completely forgot about the divorce papers. They fell into their old pattern during their time on the run and she was struck with an odd feeling of longing.

After their plates were cleared, the waiter asked if they’d like to order desserts. Hermione was about to say no, wanting to go home and clear her head but Lucius spoke up and ordered a plate of crème brûlée. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“And for the lady?” the waiter asked.

Hermione shook her head no and just asked for a refill of her wine which earned her an amused look from Lucius.

When the waiter placed the dessert on the table and refilled Hermione’s glass, Lucius cleared his throat to catch her attention. “I have a deal for you.”

“I’m listening,” Hermione said, her voice sounding business-like.

“Have dinner with me for a month, nothing else, just dinner and it doesn’t have to be every night. After a month I’d sign the divorce papers and you’d be finally free of me.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the divorce papers. “Do you mean that?”

“I do, Hermione. I’d sign the papers in exchange for the pleasure of your company for a month. For old time’s sake.” Lucius said brightly. She looked over to glare at him, but he had such a huge smile on his face that she failed miserably and ended up returning his expression.

“You make it sound like I’m a whore,” she joked.

Lucius scoffed. “You’re not. You’re my wife.”

The butterflies in Hermione’s stomach are having the time of their lives tonight. She tried to cover it up by taking a sip of her wine. “So, uhm, what if I said no?”

“Then we continue this game of cat and mouse,” he replied, his pale gray eyes going hard. Lurking behind the hardness though, she detected a slight hint of desperation in his tone. “Although it would be easier for both of us if you would just say yes.”

“It would be much easier if you had just signed the papers and be done with it. Sign the papers, Lucius. Move on from this,” she pleaded.

“No.” His voice was resolute, firm. “I told you I’m not done with you—with us, yet.”

“Lucius—”

“Please,” he said earnestly taking one of her hands resting on the table, the desperation now visible on his face. Never in their time on the run did Lucius ever beg her for anything. And now this, to hear this proud man begging for a scrap of her time had her heart breaking into thousands of pieces. “Just one month, Hermione. That’s all I ask.”

Hermione looked at their joined hands and sighed. “One month.”

“One month,” he echoed, his face already brightening. “We can even perform an Unbreakable Vow if you wish.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. For some unfathomable reason, I trust you.” Hermione squeezed his hand and let go. “Don’t make me regret it, Lucius.”

“You won’t,” he assured her.

The night ended and Lucius dropped her off in front of her house. He parted with a lingering kiss on the back of her hand and a promise to owl her. Despite her doubts, Hermione found herself anticipating their next dinner together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
*Bonsoir Madame, Monsieur, comment puis-je vous aider? (Good evening Madam, Sir, how can I help you?)  
*Oh, il n'est pas mon père. (Oh, he is not my father.)  
*Il est en fait ma meilleure moitié. Nous nous sommes récemment mariés et sommes en lune de miel. C'était une décision impulsive, donc on n'a pas pu réserver une chambre d'hôtel à l'avance. (He is actually my better half. We recently got married and are on our honeymoon. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision so we didn't get to book a hotel room in advance.  
*Je suis profondément désolé Madame, Monsieur. (I am deeply sorry Madam, Sir.)  
*Profitez de votre séjour ici. (Enjoy your stay here.)
> 
> Hopefully, this will be the last chapter with French dialogues. My French is really horrendous and I feel like I'm just embarrassing myself.
> 
> I've already written the next chapter but it still needs a bit of polishing.


	4. What Could Be As Lonely As Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter three times then posted it immediately. I didn't bother checking for errors so I'm sorry if you spotted any mistakes. I'll try to fix it when I have time.

**March 1998.**

“What is love to you, Lucius?”

“That’s a personal question.”

“Well, I’m your wife. Can’t get any more personal than that.”

“Oh I can think of ways we can get more personal,” he said suggestively and a piece of crumpled tissue was thrown in his face.

Days turned to weeks and Hermione and Lucius fell into a pattern. He would often accompany her on her journeys back and forth between Paris and Britain to look for her friends and his son. Some days, she would go alone while Lucius conducted his own search. When things would get risky enough back home, they would stay and explore Paris. The latter was Hermione’s favorite part although she would never admit it to any living soul.

Their nights were the most constant part of their routine. It had become their ritual to have dinner at the same restaurant where they first came to when they arrived here in Paris.

They were already considered patrons of the establishment despite only having been here for a month with the maître d’ warmly greeting them as Monsieur and Madame Malfoy whenever they would enter which never failed to make Hermione blush—much to Lucius’ amusement.

It was the middle of March, the spring had finally arrived, and the cold rains and sleet of late February gave way to the soft, warm rains. And it was where the two found themselves, dining al fresco again under the wooden canopy. They were staring at the scene currently unfolding in front of them.

A man was kneeling in the middle of the restaurant while holding a velvet box in his two hands, a hopeful look on his face. The woman who was recently sitting now stood on shaky legs, eyes brimming with tears. Hermione and Lucius couldn’t hear what they were saying but they could tell it all went well when the couple inside the restaurant sealed the deal with a kiss, followed by the applause of the other patrons.

“Are Muggle marriage proposals always that _overt_?” Lucius asked, his face focused on the happy couple being congratulated by the restaurant staff.

Hermione glanced at the wizard and noticed that he had this odd expression on his face again. “C’mon, don’t change the subject. Have you ever been in love?”

Lucius tore his gaze away from the happy couple and onto the witch sitting in front of him who met his stare head-on. Letting out a long defeated sighed, he answered. “I find the idea of love wholly unnecessary. The love of your life? The concept is ridiculous, the thought that we can only be complete with another person is...”

“Madness?” Hermione supplied.

“I was going to say codependent but yes, I agree. It is madness,” he glanced at his empty wine glass and had seemed to retreat to his mind.

Hermione thought he’d zoned out on her but he spoke again. This time he sounded subdued—almost melancholy; his eyes had a faraway look in them. “While my marriage to Narcissa was an arranged one, I came to love and respect her over the years we were together. She’s an intelligent woman and has helped me through difficult times.”

“I loved Narcissa but was I in love with her? No. To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know how to answer your question since I have no idea what love really is. Sometimes I feel like I’m incapable of caring or falling in love with someone.”

“I’ve read countless books and scrolls that speak in detail about love but reading it and experiencing it are both different things. I could live without being ‘in love,’ have lived it for most of my life but now that you’ve mentioned it, I can’t help but wonder if it mattered at all if I never would love. I did not know what I was missing, of course, so how would I want it at all? But then again, if love was like what I’ve read in books, I’d rather not want it. To lose one’s reason over a single person is, as you say, madness.”

“Wow,” She said stunned. “For someone who had never experienced love, I never thought you had such strong opinions about it.”

“I didn’t—well at least not until now,” then he added as an afterthought, eyes shifting back to Hermione. “Maybe I should fall in love, just once, to have a real perspective on what I’ve been missing all along.”

“It’s not a door that you can open and close at your whim,” Hermione admonished him, feeling all hot and bothered by the intense stare she’d been receiving. “Falling in love can occur unexpectedly or it can occur gradually. Little by little the feeling creeps in until one day, it’s just there and there’s nothing you can do about it but give in.”

“Well, what about you, Hermione? Have you ever been in love?”

_Whoop. There it is._

“I, uh, I thought I was,” she replied vaguely and when Lucius asked if she was referring to Ronald Weasley, she nodded then continued. “He was my exact opposite in every aspect and despite our obvious differences, Ron challenged me now and then. But I then realized that what I felt for him was just that—a curiosity.”

“Love is three-quarters curiosity,” he supplied.

“I know but—wait, did you just seriously quote Casanova?” Hermione was stifling a laugh, the tensed mood suddenly dispelled. She suddenly had a mental image of Lucius sitting in his library, reading Giacomo Casanova’s autobiography. She was about to laugh but then another image materialized in her mind where she was sitting beside him also reading a book. The perfect picture of domesticity.

Hermione shook her head. _What has gotten into me?_

“I told you I’ve read books about it,” Lucius said nonchalantly, seeming oblivious to her current thoughts.

“But I didn’t realize it includes Muggle books.”

“Muggles have written far more books about love than us magical people about spells and magic. A third of my library is filled to the brim with fictional stories about love,” he noticed her eyes taking on a darker shade at the mention of his library. “I’ll show it to you someday.”

Hermione almost choked on her wine, but her face immediately lit up at the thought of being inside the infamous Malfoy library—a library that even rivaled that of Hogwarts’, possibly even better. “You’re serious? You would allow me access to your library?”

“Of course,” he shrugged, then gave her a genuine smile. “Why not?”

“Thank you, Lucius.”

Seconds passed and for the first time in a long time, Hermione felt awkward with the silence until the maître d’ came over to them.

“Pardon, Madame, Monsieur,” he handed Lucius a parcel. “It came a few minutes ago, and it was addressed to you.”

As the waiter left, Lucius inspected the package and carefully opened the edges, pulling out what appeared to be today’s copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Is that...” Hermione trailed, eyes widening when she saw the photo and the main headline. “Oh my god.”

**Break-in at Gringotts: Gringotts Security Breached**

“_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts’ yesterday; widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards and witches unknown although a few witnesses claimed it was the undesirable number one Harry Potter and his friends under the guise of Polyjuice Potion,_” Lucius read the first paragraph of the article.

And under the headline was a moving photo of Harry recycled from his use of underaged magic trial.

“That’s got to be them! You-Know-Who probably hid a Horcrux in one of the vaults,” Hermione reached for the paper and scanned the entire article for clues. “But they said here that nothing was taken.”

“Of course, that’s what the goblins will say. The bank has a reputation to maintain.”

“How did Harry get ahold of a Polyjuice Potion though? He and Ron can’t even brew a simple cure for boils potion properly so I don’t think they’re responsible for that.”

“Draco must’ve brewed the potion,” Lucius mused.

“Draco?”

“Don’t act so surprised, my dear. Draco is very skilled at potions although he rarely shows it, he’s mentored by Severus after all since he was young,” Lucius said proudly.

“Severus personally taught Draco potions?” Hermione asked, her mouth still agape.

“He’s Draco’s godfather,” Lucius replied already getting annoyed at Hermione’s constant questions about his son. “We’re getting off track here. This could be an opportunity to locate my son and your friends. We need a plan.”

Hermione snapped back to reality and glanced at the paper.

“There’s no ‘we’ in this. I’m going there alone.”

“Out of the question!” Lucius bellowed which earned them curious glances from the other patrons. “My son is definitely with your friends and this is the only clue we have so far of their whereabouts. I’m not going to stay here!”

“You don’t have a wand, I do. You’ll only be a liability if you come with me!” Hermione hissed, her eyes darting around, worried Muggles might overhear them. She discreetly cast a muffling charm around them just to make sure. Lucius was about to respond again but she cut him off. “How about a compromise, huh?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Explain.”

“We’ll both go back to London the same way we do from before but we’ll be more careful since the ministry will be on high alert for suspicious individuals lurking around. You’ll stay in Muggle London for the meantime while I—”

“You can’t—”

“Wait! Let me finish!” Hermione held up a finger. “Since I’m the only one who has a wand, I’ll go first to check if it’s okay to enter. The anti-Apparition jinx was only placed to prevent you from fleeing the country but we can still apparate within it. I’ll be back in ten minutes to get you so we can both investigate together. How’s that sound?”

“Fine,” Lucius ceded. “But if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going in.”

“Are you crazy? You don’t have a wand! What are you going to do there? Ask them nicely where Draco is?”

“No, of course not. I’m not dumb,” he glared at her. “And what am I supposed to do in Muggle London in case you didn’t come back, huh? Drink wine and wait for the war to be over?” he argued.

“I expect you to come up with another plan to find Harry and the others and help them defeat You-Know-Who!”

“You can’t expect me to leave you there! Potter and his friends would never forgive me,” he said frustratedly and Hermione thought she heard a hint of worry in his tone.

“They won’t kill me unless I surrender willingly,” Hermione assured him. “Remember the reason why we entered this agreement in the first place. If I get caught, you’ll be the only person allowed to visit me. There would be a trial and it would take time. The news of my capture would reach Harry and I’m pretty sure they would try and free me. Use that opportunity to find them.”

“But I’m a wanted man too. How could I get to you there if they’ll lock me up the moment I stepped foot inside the Ministry?”

“Tell them I imprisoned you, held you captive. You don’t have a wand so you’re practically helpless,” Hermione shrugged.

“I am not helple—wait,” it finally dawned on him what she was trying to say. “You’d allow yourself to be bait?”

“If that’s what it takes,” she said defiantly. “We’re at war and we have to utilize everything at our disposal to win.”

Lucius smiled at her. “Utilizing everything? Sounds pretty Slytherin to me. Are you sure the sorting hat placed you in the right house?”

“The sorting hat takes your choices into account,” Hermione scoffed, slightly offended at being considered a Slytherin. “Harry was supposed to be in Slytherin but thanks to your son’s nasty attitude back then, he wanted nothing to do with that house.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the sudden revelation. How things would definitely change if Potter was sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. He found it amusing how his son’s behavior had altered the course of the future.

And on that note, he also wondered how different it would be if she were sorted into Slytherin. Lucius had never known a Muggleborn being sorted into his house. Half-bloods, yes, but only if the other half of the parent came from a prominent family. Severus and the Dark Lord were some of those that fit the description.

Would she survive? Would she still be the brightest witch of her age? Would she still be friends with Potter and the youngest Weasley? Lucius subtly observed the witch before him. She was leisurely twirling the glass of wine on her hand as her eyes absorbed the contents of the Daily Prophet. Hermione wasn’t beautiful—not in the conventional Pureblood way. He had not thought of her as totally unattractive either. Ordinary and somewhat plain, yes, but not unattractive. However, recently, he started to noticed things—like the way her eyes would light up at the mention of books or how she would scrunch up her nose when she’s focused. He had had no idea that such small changes could make such a difference. The transformation was subtle but extraordinary.

There’s no use denying that he’s attracted to her—probably have been for a while although it bothered him sometimes how young she is, practically the same age as his son, if not older. The Muggle receptionist was right, she could’ve been his daughter.

_But she’s not._ A voice inside his head said.  
  
True, but still—

“And besides, Dumbledore said that we all have some of the characteristics of each house. It’s not limited to just one,” Hermione concluded. So absorbed he was on his thoughts that he hadn’t realized she was still talking.

“When do we leave?” he said instead.

Hermione looked a bit put out by the sudden change in the subject but didn’t comment on it. “Tomorrow morning,” she replied.

“Then we better get back to the hotel and get a decent sleep,” Lucius said as he called the waiter for the bill. “We have a very long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

A few hours from now, two of them would wish that they had stayed in Paris instead.

* * *

**December 1998.**

Hermione sat at a table in a nice café in Muggle London, waiting for Lucius to arrive. The café was a ten-minute walk from her office, a little far away but the place was nice and the food and coffee were excellent, plus the fact that no witches or wizards ever passed by the area, lessening the chance of someone they knew running into them.

It was the first week of December, a bleak winter morning full of passersby hurriedly making their way to their destination. It had been two weeks since and they had progressed from having dinners to the occasional shared lunch during her break. How did it happen, Hermione will never know, but it was a welcome change from eating stale sandwiches in her cramped office alone.

It’s probably one of the reasons why she agreed with the lunch meetings. The Quidditch world cup had recently ended and Harry was on vacation for a while which meant him popping up into the office every lunch breaks asking Draco and her out to lunch. She always refused, telling them both that she had a lot of work to catch up.

Which was true. Her constant dinners with Lucius, as much as she loathed to admit that she enjoyed every minute of it, was eating a lot of her time. She even had to bring work home on the weekends, busying herself with files she has long neglected, records that aren't time-sensitive, dry Ministry work she had postponed until the last minute.

But if she’s 100% being honest with herself, Hermione just didn’t want to be the third wheel in their dates. Didn’t want to feel insecure at her two friends’ steady and happy relationship while here she sits, her own 'relationship' a constant mess.

The dinners were lovely and Lucius had been a total gentleman, never done anything more than kiss her hand whenever they would part ways. It was alright at first, but days passed and it left Hermione yearning for something more. For what, she couldn’t tell. It makes her wonder what his real purpose was, asking her to have dinner with him for a month. She still hadn’t sorted out her emotions regarding the blonde wizard, kept putting it on the back of her mind. What’s the point anyway, since they’re going to divorce soon and things between them will be ancient history, something she’ll just look back to when she’s old.

Hermione checked her watch, 11:55. Okay, so she got there a bit early. They always meet at 12:15 but now and then the two of them would arrive early.

"11:56. Great," she sighed. Hermione drummed her fingers on the tabletop, scanned the area, sipped her water, and then repeated the process. "Why is time moving so slow?"

"Because you're watching it," Lucius replied, taking the chair opposite of her. "I’m sorry, my dear. I got held up with work."

“It’s okay,” Hermione smiled. “I was very early.”

The waiter then came, took their orders and left leaving them alone again.

"So, how’s work at Ministry doing?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It’s chaotic right now at the D.M.L.E., what with the anonymous tip we received four days ago about the location of the remaining followers of Voldemort,” Hermione explained as she twirled a strand of her hair in her finger. “Robards had us working round the clock which reminds me. I can’t have dinner with you on Friday.”

“Why?” Lucius frowned.

“I can't tell you the specifics, just that I'll be away. It’s classified for now but if it all goes well, then you’ll find out about it in the papers the following day.”

As they finished their meal, their conversation soon drifted off from their respective work to the troubles they got into when they were studying in Hogwarts.

“So there we were, standing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest when we heard the clacking noises. Soon we were confronted by a herd of centaurs and you’d think Umbridge would run away but no, the witch insulted and cast an Incarcerous spell on one of the centaurs. They hauled her away screaming at Harry and me to help her.”

“But did you help her?” asked Lucius in between fits of laughter.

“Gods, no!” Hermione replied as she wiped a tear from her eye. “We immediately left before the centaurs could think to get us too. And besides, we were in a hurry to get to the Department of Mysteries at that time.”

The laughter died down instantly at the mention of the place. It was an unpleasant memory for both, one where Hermione almost got killed by Antonin Dolohov and one where Lucius spent an entire year in Azkaban following the failed attempt at stealing the prophecy. It was also the start of his fall from grace with Voldemort.

“I never did apologize to you about that,” Lucius said, breaking the silence. “I never apologized to you about a lot of things.”

“It was a lifetime ago, Lucius, and you were a different man back then. The war is over and a lot had moved on—I have moved on. It wasn’t easy but I did.” She reached out and grabbed his hand resting on the table, squeezing it gently.

The silence was slowly starting to get to her and if she can’t focus on maintaining a conversation then she had to focus on something else instead. But it’s hard to concentrate when she was holding his hand and the tingling sensation it created deep inside her belly wasn’t particularly helpful, and neither was paying attention to the way his eyelashes seemed to glow in the winter sun which drifted in through the glass windows of the café.

Hermione shook her head at herself, shivered involuntarily at her school girl-like behavior. “So what about you? Did you get into any trouble back then?”

“No,” Lucius laughed weakly. “Unlike you, I was a straight-A student back then. Never got detention or anything.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“It’s true. You can ask Andy—that’s Andromeda. We were head boy and head girl back then,” he said proudly.

“You’re friends with Andromeda Tonks?” Hermione asked surprised. “I thought she was cast out of the Black family for marrying Ted?”

“Yes, she was. When Narcissa moved out to live in the Manor, I encouraged her to reconnect with Andy. They were really close before that fiasco happened.”

"That's very sweet of you," Hermione smiled softly at him and Lucius almost reached out across the table and kiss her. 

They were then interrupted when the waiter came over their table. "Would the lovely couple like to order a dessert?"

"Not at the moment, thank you," Hermione said.

The waiter smiled then walked away.

"Did you hear that?" Lucius asked.

"What?"

"We're a lovely couple,” he said beaming. Hermione rolled her eyes but she couldn't hide her smile. A thought then crossed her mind.

"Why did you really asked me to go to dinner with you, Lucius?" Hermione finally asked, focusing her full attention on the wizard in front of her. She didn’t want to miss anything that could give him away.

"I told you I didn't want to eat alone," he shrugged.

“So that’s all there is to this then? You just didn’t want to eat alone?” Hermione didn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “You could’ve just asked anyone.”

“Everyone’s not exactly lining up to have dinner with a former Death Eater—no matter how good-looking or rich he is,” he replied sardonically.

“Still the arrogant, self-absorbed Pureblood prat, I see,” Hermione remarked. “You do know you didn’t have to blackmail me to have dinner with you. I enjoy your company, Lucius, and I would love to have dinner with you had you asked nicely.”

“Would you? It’s not so long ago you were demanding that I sign the papers like I’m some filth you can’t wait to get rid of,” he said sharply.

“Because the agreement was over. The war was over. There was no point in continuing this charade!” Hermione cried. Some of the patrons were now glancing in their direction.

“Was this a charade?” Lucius gestured to the space between them. “Was everything that’s happened between us just pretense?”

When Hermione didn’t respond, Lucius continued. “I admit that the marriage started out as a fake one because that's what I had really intended in the beginning. Narcissa was gone, Draco was missing and the Dark Lord was hunting me. You were the only one that's left and I was afraid of being alone so I latched on to you but then I felt myself beginning to love you instead of just needing you."

“What do you know of love, Lucius? You’ve never been in love!”

“I’ve felt enough to know that this is love,” he replied.

“That’s not true,” Hermione argued, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re just still grieving about Narciss—”

“Don’t you ever include Narcissa in this," he interrupted her. "She’s gone and while I’ve spent most of my life with her, I was never in love with her. When I held you in my arms as you were bleeding to death that day, I’ve never seen the truth more clear in my life.”

“I’ve read somewhere that all truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident. My truth had long since passed the third stage. I'm in love with you, Hermione, and that’s the truth.”

"Lucius—"

“I am giving you my whole life, okay? We both know my wealth meant nothing to you so I've got nothing larger to give but my life and unending devotion and I'm not giving it to anybody else. If you're looking for a way to disqualify me, I'm not going to give it to you. I love you and I'm not in conflict about it.”

It was eerily silent as the patrons of the café—even the staff—were now openly staring at them. They were waiting, expecting Hermione’s reaction but Lucius’ open declaration was too much for her to handle.

“I can’t... I can’t do this anymore,” Hermione stood up and swiftly exited the café. She couldn’t apparate immediately so she started walking briskly to the nearest deserted alley she could see. Seconds later, she heard footsteps approaching and voice calling out to her—his voice.

"Hermione!" Lucius called after her.

"Please! Just leave me alone!" she yelled back, stopping to face him. "I'm not joking."

"Who's laughing?" Lucius asked, stopping a few feet from her.

Hermione shook her head. "Why can't you just stop?!"

"Stop what?"

"This! Us! Why can't you just let me go?" she cried. “Why won’t you sign the papers?”

"Because I love you dammit!” Now that he’d said the words, Lucius can’t seem to stop saying them. It was a liberating feeling, finally admitting what you’ve been denying yourself for quite a while. If only the witch in front of him would just do the same. That was all he wanted now—to convince her, to show her how ecstatically and miserably he loved her. What for? Why try to convince her? Why show her anything? He didn’t know, but this was more essential than his life. “I don't understand how you could not feel anything like those months that we spent together were nothing?!?" Lucius cried. A handful of Muggle pedestrians were now staring at the spectacle they were making.

"Because I don’t!” Hermione coldly stated. “I don’t love you.”

“No,” Lucius took a few steps forward. “You’re a bad liar, Hermione and I know you feel the same.”

“That’s my truth, Lucius. It’s not my problem if you can’t accept that.”

"Don't do this Hermione," he begged and oh how the look on his face broke Hermione's soul. It's taking all of her willpower not to succumb to him. "Do not condemn me to the torture of loving you, losing you, and having life yet left to live."

"Goodbye, Lucius." She turned around and started to walk away but then stopped and gave him one last look. “Sign the papers.”

With that, she turned a corner and Lucius heard the faint crack of disapparition.

What Hermione didn’t see as she walked away were the tears that fell from the wizard’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there.
> 
> I had originally planned this story to be only three chapters but it grew a life on its own. Also: there are at least ten films referenced/quoted in this chapter. Think you could name at least five?


	5. I Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to deviate from the past-present format of my chapters. I hope this isn't confusing.
> 
> (NOTE: The italicized parts happened in March 1998 while the non-italicized parts happened in December 1998. Both events followed shortly after the previous chapter.)

The spells came from out of nowhere, and in the midst of the barrage, two brought her down swiftly. Within seconds the blood loss was significant enough that Draco was screaming for back up, for the other Aurors to secure the area as the wards surrounding it were preventing him to apparate her to St. Mungo’s.

Her partner understood immediately the precariousness of her condition, having been hit with the same spell himself before. It was a trap, an ambush, and she had been hit twice—one on the stomach and one landing the shoulder; her axillary artery had been damaged.

“Granger! Granger! Stay with me!” Draco tried to rouse her. “Come on, Hermione!”

Hermione opened her eyes and all she saw was a mass of blonde hair. _Lucius? _She tried to speak but she felt so weak. The burning from her wound radiated throughout her body, and that immense pain coupled with the great loss of blood caused her to lose consciousness quickly. Too quickly. As Hermione lay on the cold hard floor with her head cradled against Draco's chest, all her mind could think of as it slowly faded away into oblivion was Lucius Malfoy and their time on the run together, and how she wished they had just stayed in Paris instead.

\---

_As she fired a stunning spell across the hallway, she heard the loud crack of apparition from behind. Turning around, she found Lucius Malfoy standing in the middle of Gringotts' lobby._

_For all her knowledge about Arithmancy, Hermione never anticipated this. It wasn’t the Ministry Aurors guarding the bank but rather a handful of Death Eaters ordered by You-Know-Who to kill or capture any known Order member._

_Now she’s stuck in a corner and what’s worse was that Lucius sodding Malfoy barged in practically wandless and helpless so now she not only has herself to worry about._

_“Lucius, you idiot!” she shouted. “I told you to stay behind!”_

_“And I told you that I’m going in if you’re not back in ten minutes!” he shouted back. He started towards her, effortlessly ducking at the spells now being hurled in his direction._

_“Stay there!” Hermione ordered. “I’m going to—”_

_Whatever she was going to say was cut off by an explosion._

_“No!” Lucius roared as he broke into a run. One of the masked Death Eaters fired a Blasting curse and hit Hermione squarely on the back. Her body was flung across the lobby and she lay motionless, blood seeping in every direction._

_“Fuck! Hermione!” Lucius slid down beside her and clutched her hand, checking for a pulse. It was there but it was very faint. He needed to get out of here fast if he wanted her to live._

_He saw her wand lying a few feet from them and he immediately dove for it, firing a stronger Blasting curse in the direction of the Death Eaters. To his surprise, the wand never showed any resistance as if he was the real owner. The entire building shook from the blast and Lucius used the distraction to disapparate them away._

_They landed in a deserted alley in Muggle London, near the hotel they were currently staying. Lucius could feel her blood soaking his clothes as he carried her in his arms. Her quiet whimpers of pain cut into him._

_“Lucius...”_

_“Don’t try to talk, my dear, it’s okay…”_

_He reached the hotel lobby in a matter of seconds; his entire body was already aching from the exertion._

_“Help! I need help please!” he shouted and several people came rushing to them and they’re all trying to talk to him, asking him what happened but he didn’t know how to answer without revealing anything. _

_Lucius then felt his arm being lightly squeezed and he looked down at the witch in his arms. She’s gazing up at him through bleary eyes, half-closed and blinking slowly, the chocolate brown not nearly as warm and intense as usual._

_“Lucius, I…I need…”_

_And he leaned closer, straining, desperate to hear what it was she needs because he owed her this at least._

_“What is it, Hermione?”_

_“Harry…” she’s murmuring, and he can see her face screwing up in pain at the effort that speaking was starting to take, her face rapidly losing color and her grip on his hand weakening. She’s losing too much blood. “I need...Will you...H—Harry...”_

_And he felt his heart sank as he understood what she was trying to say. She’s bleeding out in his arms and all she’s worried about are her friends._

_Lucius gritted his teeth._

_“Potter will see you again, Hermione, don’t worry about that, do you understand? You’re going to be fine, do you hear me?”_

_And he can see her lips twitch at his insistence and he’s sure if she had the strength then she would roll her eyes, but she can only squeeze her eyes shut and cough weakly, the sound far too wet for his liking._

_“Lucius, it hurts…”_

_It’s a hoarse whisper and she sounded so weak, felt his heart constrict once more in response. “I know, my dear, I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I should’ve listened to you...”_

_But her eyes were drifting close once again, this time with a finality that scared him more than anything he’s ever experienced, as if some weight was pulling them down and if he didn’t see them open ever again he didn’t know what he’ll do—_

_“Lucius...”_

_It’s her faintest whisper yet and her eyes were closed and he’s panicking. “Hermione, stay with me, please, please...”_

_And he was chanting nonsense to her unconscious form now, just desperate to see her eyes open again because—_

_A shock went through him at the sudden realization. _No, no, it couldn’t be._ He half sobbed half laughed because it was so clichéd like those Muggle fiction books in his library. The people around him thought the sound he made was a strangled cry because they grew more frantic, voices getting louder and amid the chaos was Hermione, still as a statue and cold as the marble floors._

_“Hermione don’t go. Please don’t go,” he whispered into her ear._

\---

Draco was carrying a limp Hermione in his arms when they apparated into the halls of St. Mungo’s. He ran up to the reception as fast as his legs would allow all the while screaming for anyone to help them.

“Help please! Oh, Merlin! She’s bleeding a lot!”

Two Healers came and took Hermione from him. As they levitated her towards the emergency room, Draco immediately went to follow but another Healer stopped him. “I’m sorry sir but only family members are allowed to enter.”

“But she has no one! She can’t be alone. If she doesn’t make this... she can’t be alone.” Draco frantically demanded the Healer to let him in, but it insisted on the hospital’s policy.

As the healer left, Draco immediately sent a patronus to Harry and a few minutes later, a disheveled looking Harry who was still wearing his Quidditch uniform apparated into the hallway. He found Draco, Hermione’s blood still covering the upper half of his body, sitting in the corner staring at the tiled floors.

Harry immediately ran up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

Draco stood and hugged him tightly, not caring anymore who sees. “Oh gods, Harry! We were ambushed! They were waiting for us. She was hit with that spell, Harry. _Sectumsempra_.”

A dark shadow passed over his features. “Who did this to her? How did they know that spell?”

“We don’t know, it happened all too fast,” he ran his hand through platinum blonde hair which was caked with blood too. “But we’ve managed to secure the place and captured those bastards—”

Draco was interrupted by the loud crack of apparition in the hallway. They were expecting Ronald Weasley to appear but there instead stood a distressed-looking Lucius Malfoy.

“Father? What are you doing here?”

Lucius bypassed his son and went straight to the reception desk. “I need to see Hermione Malfoy. Quickly. She is being prepared for emergency treatment.”

The receptionist looked at him in shock. “Surely sir you mean Hermione Granger?”

Lucius shot her a glare that made the receptionist shrunk in her seat. “She’s a Malfoy. I’m her husband. Take me to her.”

“The hell you are!” Harry started to aggressively approach Lucius. Draco managed to hold him back, trying to prevent a scene from happening.

“The hell I am! Get out of the way, Potter. _Now_.” Lucius growled as he pushed past him and followed the receptionist back to find Hermione.

As they walked along the sterile hospital hallway, a myriad of memories floated up from the depths of his mind—memories of a different time and place but the scenario was just the same. History has an odd way of repeating itself.

The receptionist cleared her throat, pulling him back to the present. She gestured for him to go inside and when Lucius approached the bed Hermione was lying on, he had to, for a moment, look away and take a deep breath.

\---

_They were on the back of what appeared to be a large Muggle car with Lucius clutching Hermione’s hand, her pulse slowly fading every second._

_He didn’t know how he got here. Lucius had to wonder if he was Imperiused, but no, it can’t be. These are Muggles. They have no knowledge of his world—their world. His and Hermione’s._

_Lucius glanced back at the witch lying motionless on what seemed to be a cot. One would think she was just sleeping (he’d seen her sleep countless times since they, after all, had often shared the same bed) except she really wasn’t. Her normally rosy cheeks were devoid of color and her hands were cold to the touch._

_The other Muggle was busy poking and prodding her entire body. He wanted to shove him, shoot him with a hex or two but he needed the Muggle, needed this man to save her. As much as it felt good to wield a wand, he couldn’t risk using it to heal her. Couldn’t risk the other Death Eaters finding them by tracing the magical signature of her wand._

_After what felt like an eternity, the Muggle car stopped moving and the doors were yanked open, light bursting in, momentarily blinding him._

_“A female, early 20s, short of breath, pulse ox, 82, decreased breath sounds,” the Muggle said to what Lucius thought was the Healer as the Muggle hopped down from the car. Two other Muggles wearing the same clothes came in pulling Hermione’s cot out of the car._

_“No facial burns?”_

_The Muggle shook his head. “Pneumothorax.”_

_The Healers were pushing her along towards the double doors, and Lucius didn’t know what to do so he just went right along with them, pressing and hoping that she’s going to make it._

_He was stopped by a hand catching his arm._

_Lucius jerked around to glare at whoever has pulled him away from Hermione, and it’s not a Healer—or so he thinks. He only spared her a glance because they’re going on without him, pushing her through the double doors and he’s losing her and that can’t happen—_

_“You have to stop here, sir, only family members are allowed further.”_

_He whipped back around to face the nurse, incredulous and furious and panicking all at once. “No, I have to go with her, I—”_

_And the doors were closing and Hermione was being wheeled out of his sight and he has to follow—_

_“Sir, are you a relative?”_

_“She’s my wife!”_

_The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. This wasn’t the reason why they entered into this agreement in the first place but it was convenient nonetheless._

_“I’m her husband, she’s my wife. I have to go with her," he said more confidently this time._

_“Right this way.”_

_And it worked, like a charm, without a doubt, and he followed her down the hall, passing rooms on both sides until she finally pushed open another set of doors and came to a stop in what appeared to be a small waiting room._

_“You can wait here. Your wife is in one of the operation rooms in this wing. She’s probably already in surgery. A doctor will come to you with any updates as soon as he can. We’re going to take good care of her, don’t worry. Can I get you anything while you wait?”_

_Lucius blinked, a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught of information. It was a moment before he answered. “No, thank you.”_

_The Muggle woman looked at him sympathetically. “Perhaps a place to wash up? You don’t want your wife to see you like that when she wakes up, do you?” Her words were kind but have an undercurrent of strength to them, as if she’s used to managing shocked people. Lucius imagined that she’s had a lot of practice with that._

_“No, of course not,” he murmured, glancing down at his hands. They’re covered in red. The sight filled him with a strange mixture of curiosity and fascination._

_The woman touched his arm to get his attention. “There’s a bathroom through there,” she advised him, pointing off to the side of the waiting room. “Will you be alright?”_

_“Yes,” he mumbled, not completely sure if he’s telling the truth but suddenly craving the privacy of a small room. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”_

_The woman eyed him a little skeptically, watching as he hurried into the small bathroom and shut the door, the sharp snap cutting him off from any routine noises in the waiting room, enveloping him in silence with a suddenness that is jarring. He blinked._

_For a long moment, Lucius just stood there, staring blankly at the faucet, little drops of water dripping, trying to gather himself. He’s in a Muggle hospital bathroom. They were in the back of a Muggle car that got them here and the waiting room is outside and he’s in a hospital. A bathroom._

_He continued to stare at the faucet, the way the water dripped reminded him of Hermione’s blood seeping on the floor._

_Lucius pressed his back against the door and slide down, hitting the floor with a thump, all the air leaving his body in a wordless gasp._

_Hermione was shot with a Blasting curse all because he didn’t listen to her. If he had just listened, then this wouldn’t have happened. She probably would’ve made it out alive and back to him safe with only a few bruises here and there._

_Now she was bleeding so much, there was so much blood._

_He'd seen so many deaths, one much more brutal and gruesome than the other but why was this bothering him so much?_

_Lucius’ breaths were uneven and tears were escaping his eyes. This reminded him of that night in the Manor when Bella killed—oh no._

_He brought a shaky hand up to wipe at his eyes and jumped, physically startled by the red blood still coated there. Lucius completely forgot that was why he came in here in the first place. He had to pull himself together. So, he needed to get cleaned up._

_He took a deep breath and stood, pushing himself up from the hard floor with effort, using the sink to pull himself up. He leaned there for a moment, squeezing his eyes close as his vision fizzled out and back in, fighting the brief bout of dizziness before he turned the water on as hot as it will go and started washing the blood off._

_Lucius still had Hermione’s wand and he could use a simple cleaning spell to remove the dirt and blood but he didn’t want to. He needed to do it this way, needed to feel something other than this immense guilt washing over him._

_He just scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were no longer red from blood but from the scalding hot water instead, clean and sore. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he had finally finished, when he can look at his hands and actually see them, his own skin, not Hermione’s blood, an awful token of what occurred in that bank less than an hour ago._

_He wanted to forget it more than he wanted to breathe._

_Lucius refrained from looking in the mirror as well, not wanting to see what he looked like, not really caring. He should probably wash his face, but he can’t quite handle it. He came in here to have a panic attack and wash his hands, nothing else._

_One thing at a time._

\---

“Sir, we have managed to stop the bleeding for now, but we need to repair the damage to the artery and the rest of her shoulder. She lost a lot of blood, but we are giving her some blood replenishing potions now though she is far from stable so, you have a minute. Then, we must get her back there,” the Healer informed him but Lucius wasn’t really paying any attention, so lost in his thoughts. “Do you understand? Sir? Take a minute. We’ll be back for her shortly.”

The Healer waited for his acknowledgment before stepping back, giving Lucius the illusion of privacy.

Her eyes were closed. He was told she had regained consciousness, but she had been given strong medication for the pain and in preparation for the treatment. She was classified as critical, and she looked it. She appeared even paler than him, like one of the ghosts at Hogwarts, almost as pale as the last time.

“Hermione, can you hear me?” Lucius gently stroked her cheek. “Hermione, love, wake up for me for just a minute. Please.” She made no move, no indication she had heard him, so he leaned down and whispered in her ear, pressing his cheek against hers. “Be strong, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he kissed her cheek then, her forehead.

“Mr. Malfoy, we need to go now. We will update you in the waiting room,” the Healer spoke as she began to move around Hermione, as others came in to begin the final preparations. He watched in a fog, moved from the small room as the Healers lifted Hermione towards the emergency room.

The next few hours Lucius would best forget. But, finally, when she was in recovery and stabilized long enough following the treatment, he was allowed back to see her once again.

Hermione was awake this time, but barely. She didn’t see him until the bed dipped when he sat next to her. She noticed his smile was different, brilliant but different. “You’re back,” he said.

He looked like one of those angels she used to see in the pictures of Muggle children’s book her mother used to read her, the way the hospital lights were forming a halo around his platinum blonde hair. For a moment, Hermione thought she was dead because how can he still be here after what she said to him days ago? He’s probably a manifestation of her drug-addled brain.

But he gently took her hand and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it and that’s when Hermione knew that this was real, that he’s sitting beside her.

“You’re here,” her voice was so quiet and scratchy. He reached for her cup of water and helped her drink a small amount before he answered.

“I’ve been here. I was with Shacklebolt when Robards arrived and informed him about the ambush.”

“Where is he? Where is everyone?”

“My son was here but he had to leave with Shacklebolt soon as he heard you were fine. He was the one who brought you here. Mr. Potter came too but, right now, only family is allowed back here,” he caressed her hand with his fingertips.

She grinned then, a lopsided, drug-addled grin. “Because you didn’t sign the divorce papers, so you are still my husband.” Her grin disappeared then, swiftly replaced by a welling of tears. “I’m so sorry, Lucius.”

“Hermione, you need to rest now. Relax. You’ll be okay,” he reassured her.

“Stay with me,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes. “I feel like I’m floating. Lucius?”

“Yes, ma moitié. I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re calling me that again—ma moitié.” Her voice was getting softer, her words more and more slurred as the medication began to pull her under again. “Lu... Lucius...”

“What is it?”

“I... I love... I love you.”

He caressed her cheek as her breathing evened out falling into a deep and necessary sleep, a healing sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall, before closing his eyes ever so briefly and sighing, "I know you do, my love. I know you do."

He’d been wanting to hear the words from her for a long time and now that he’d heard it, it didn't give him the satisfaction and elation he'd been expecting. Instead, guilt overcame him. Was it really worth it? To hear her admit that she loves him at the expense of her well-being? When did he become that monster? He'd heard from Robards that Hermione had been distracted lately, unable to focus on her work and that's probably why they were ambushed so easily. Lucius would bet all his wealth that he's the reason behind it. He got her nearly killed again.

Glancing at her sleeping form, he made a decision. For the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy was about to do something selfless.

\---

_It was afternoon the following day when Hermione finally came to. And the first thing she noticed upon waking up was Lucius’ disheveled form. She took this chance to observe him, fast asleep on a chair, snoring softly. His face was completely relaxed, lips slightly parted, breathing even, his lashes flickering against his cheek every once in a while, in what Hermione hoped to be a pleasant dream._

_His long platinum hair was pulled back and tied with a silk ribbon, lending him a distinguished air. A five o’clock shadow has begun to mar the perfection of his pale smooth skin. The shadows cast by the faint room light of the hospital on the hard planes of his face gave him a sinister air and Hermione found it attractive. Everything about the wizard is attractive and Hermione was suddenly flooded with emotions she couldn’t understand, but before she could mull it over, the door opened silently and a nurse entered the room, bustling inside with an air of purpose._

_“It’s good to see you’re awake,” she greeted Hermione cheerfully, her voice low as not to wake the sleeping wizard on the couch. “Time for some more morphine?”_

_“Yes, please,” Hermione said, giving her a rueful smile. Her voice was scratchy and quiet, representing the toll of the last several hours, but she seemed to be telling the truth._

_“There’s no shame in that, dear,” she said. “You were in pretty bad shape not too long ago and your body needs to rest. Don’t hesitate to help it along a little.”_

_Hermione just smiled at her, nodding slightly in agreement, and the nurse continued to chat away unprompted._

_“And your lovely husband has been here the whole time, just waiting for you to wake up,” she said, casting Lucius a fond glance. “He’s been so worried about you.”_

_Oh, right. The agreement they made somewhat became useful under a different circumstance. Hermione imagined Lucius Malfoy in the hospital lobby, explaining to the nurse that he’s her husband just so they could let him in._

_A small fond smile formed on her lips at the thought._

_The nurse babbled on, completely unaware of Hermione’s dazed look. “I’m glad he got some rest once you two were together, it’s been a long day for you both.” She made a beeline for Hermione’s IV and wasted no time in injecting more morphine into it, taking a moment to check Hermione’s monitors when she had done that. All finished, she turned to her again. “He hasn’t left your side for a moment, honey. You should be very thankful for him.”_

_There’s a beat of silence, Hermione looked at Lucius before she answered her. “Oh, I am.”_

_The nurse simply beamed at her. “Ring if you need anything,” she reminded her, and left, shutting the door behind her._

_“I know you’re awake.”_

_Lucius slowly opened his eyes and let out a breath. He went over to her bed and sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asked her quietly, his voice low and a little husky from sleep._

_Hermione’s lips quirked in response. “Like I’ve been hexed.” Lucius’ mouth twisted in a grimace. He didn’t quite see it like that but Hermione just shrugged. “I was hit with a Blasting curse Lucius. A little pain is unavoidable, unfortunately. But I’m alive, which is what matters. And it’s all thanks to you.”_

_A tensed silence fell between them and Hermione found awkward so she spoke the first thing that came to her mind. “Lucius, what happened?"_

_Lucius blinked, surprised. “You don’t remember?”_

_Hermione frowned. “I remember what happened at Gringotts but I lost consciousness immediately after I was cursed.”_

_Lucius worked his mouth, easily remembering his all-encompassing fear for her. He told her how they got away from Gringotts and how they got here, how the nurse wouldn’t let him in with her until he told them that he’s her husband._

_"Hermione, I’m so sorry, they wouldn’t let me—”_

_“I know,” she interrupted him. “I’m not mad. That’s the reason why we got married, right? So we could have each other’s backs. I’m glad you’re here, Lucius, you should know that. After all, you’re kind of all I have right now.”_

_Lucius’ eyes flitted to Hermione’s face at her words, very surprised and a little in awe, to see that she was already looking sleepy, no doubt from the drugs coursing through her system. The gratefulness and fondness that was evident in her tone irked him._

_She was looking at him now though, observing his expression through slightly heavy eyes and frowned in response. “What’s wrong, Lucius?” she asked but she was slurring her words a little, struggling to stay awake._

_Lucius’ heart rate picked up as panic gripped him. He didn’t know how long she’ll sleep and while he certainly wanted her to rest, he needed her to know how undeserving he is of thanks before she went to sleep and left him alone. Otherwise, the guilt will eat him alive._

_“Hermione, I’m…I’m deeply sorry. I should’ve listened to you.”_

_He muttered it, feeling ashamed of the words, wishing he could have done better, been quicker, and saved her all this pain._

_“Oh, Lucius. I know you would come anyway, you stubborn wizard,” Hermione murmured, and her tone is gently chastising, strangely light considering what he just admitted, and he was frowning at her, confused. But she seems unconcerned, simply leaning her head back and closing her eyes, getting comfortable against her pillows. And his heart stumbled in his chest as her fingers readjust their grip on his to pull him closer before she succumbed to sleep._

_“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”_

\---

“I know but I just feel useless.”

“You’re not, okay? She probably has her reasons for not telling you—for not telling us.”

Hermione woke up to two distinct voices talking softly. As the haze from her sleep faded away and her focus became clearer, she realized it was Draco and Harry’s voices. She closed her eyes again and pretended to sleep.

“I may not be her biological brother but in my heart, I thought of her as family, like the sister I never had.”

“I thought of her as a sister too but clearly stepmom would be more accurate. Come to think of it, that makes you my uncle by marriage—ow that hurts!”

Hermione heard a loud smack and Harry must’ve hit Draco in the arm or the head—whichever was closest to him. “Not funny!”

“Well, it’s true. But it doesn’t answer my question though. Why did she go with him after we finally saw each other again at the Shrieking Shack?

“Isn’t is it obvious?” came a third voice, farther away from her. Hermione heard a door silently being closed. “She loves him too. It’s mutual.”

_Ron_, Hermione recognized.

“Ron! You knew about this?” Harry asked, his tone sounding hurt and she wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him how sorry she was for keeping him in the dark about this.

“She told me.” Hermione could imagine Ron shrugging his shoulders as he answered Harry nonchalantly. “Don’t take it too personally, mate. When Hermione told me we couldn’t be together anymore, I practically never stopped hounding her until she told me why.”

“If she loves him, then why was she asking for a divorce?” Draco asked. _Divorce? How did he know about that? Did Lucius tell them?_

“Well, for all her talk about moving on and burying past hatred and prejudices, it seems Hermione can’t let go of her own prejudice. Isn’t that right, Mione?”

“She’s asleep, Weasel.”

“No, she’s not,” Ron replied, his voice sounding closer. “I can see your eyes fluttering, Mione. I know you’re awake.”

_Well crap_, she mused. Hermione slowly opened her eyes to see three sets of faces staring back at her. “Hey,” she croaked. Her voice felt dry and hoarse. “How long was I out?”

“Hey yourself,” Ron smiled at her as he handed her a glass of water. “You’ve been out for two days, or so what the Healers told me. How are you feeling, Mione?”

“Like I’ve been hexed,” she replied and an odd feeling of déjà vu overcame her. “I think I’ll live.”

Silence passed and it was Draco who spoke first. “Really, Granger? Marrying my father?”

“I think we can safely say she’s not Granger anymore, Ferret. Hasn’t been for a long while,” Ron said.

Hermione shot him a pointed look. It seemed like she’s really going to have this conversation right now. “Look, Malfoy, it’s not like I have a choice. Your father was resolute on the idea and he promised me that it’s only until the war is over.”

“And?”

“And what?” Hermione asked sharply.

“The war is over, so why not divorce?”

“I think your father is better equipped to answer that since he’s the one who doesn’t want to sign the damn papers!” Hermione seethed.

“Oh, I talked to father alright. After briefing Robards and Shacklebolt, I came back to check on you and since you’re married to my father, that makes me a family member so I was allowed inside.” Draco explained. “I heard his side of the story so I want to know yours. Why stay married to him, Gra—err—Hermione? And don’t give me that crap about father not signing the papers. I’ve seen you at school. You’re just as stubborn as father when you’ve set your sights on something. You could’ve made him sign it.”

“Look, I’ve told you—wait, you and Lucius talked? I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with him because he doesn’t accept your relationship with Harry?”

“What?” Harry finally spoke up this time. “You didn’t tell her the truth, Draco?”

“What truth?” Hermione demanded.

“I—err,” Draco scratched the back of his head as he glanced at Harry and Hermione sheepishly. “The reason father and I had a falling out was I kind of blamed him for mother’s death.”

Hermione wanted to throw something at him but couldn't find anything non-lethal so she settled for a glare instead. “Really mature, Ferret. Your father already blames himself and you’re not helping at all. You do know that no one forced your mother to do that, right? And if there’s anyone to blame in this, it’s your crazy aunt Bellatrix. She was the one who killed your mother.”

“I know,” Draco raised his hands in surrender. “That’s why I talked to him—to apologize. But you still didn’t answer my question, Hermione. Why stay married to him?”

When Hermione didn’t answer, it was Ron who spoke up. “Oh for Merlin’s sake, Hermione. Just admit you love Lucius Malfoy! I’ve seen the way you look at him!”

“How would you know? You’ve never seen me with him!” Hermione hissed.

“No, but I’ve seen the way you look at his photo on the Daily Prophet after the trial. That's how I knew you love him because I used to look at you the same way.”

“Ron—”

“No, Hermione. Stop making excuses. I wouldn’t have given up on you if I had known I still had a chance. During the trial, part of me still hoped that you’d get over him, that maybe it’s just a lingering feeling because, after all, you two spent a long time together during the war. But I saw the way you caressed his photo and that’s when I knew I’d really lost you. So please, Hermione, tell me: why is it so hard for you to admit it?”

“Because...” she trailed off. Because what? Because it will compromise her reputation? As if she gave a damn what other people thought of her. Because by admitting that she loved Lucius Malfoy would also admit that he had changed? Had he really?

A million questions were running through her brain, not the kind of questions she usually thrived on. “It was hard to reconcile the Lucius Malfoy I’ve come to know and love and the Lucius Malfoy I’ve met that day in Flourish and Blotts, the one who gave Ginny Weasley the diary. It was easier to hate him for all the things he’d done. With hatred, I would’ve known what to do but love? That's something I'm not wholly prepared to deal with. And there’s a matter of Narcissa’s shadow hanging between us. I could never compete with her, dead or alive.”

“I know you know that my parents were never in love,” Draco spoke. “In fact, they were planning on getting a divorce after the war was over. Unfortunately, it didn’t come to that. As for your feelings, only you could work it out. Just know that my father did most of those things for the sake of our family. He was devasted when he learned that I took the mark, nearly drank himself to oblivion if it wasn’t for my mother pulling his head out of his ass. He’s neither good nor bad. Just... misguided. A man who made a lot of wrong choices like me. Give him a chance, Hermione, just like how you gave me mine.”

Just as Hermione was about to respond, there was a light knock on the door and a Healer came in. “Hello boys, I hope you’re not disrupting the patient’s recovery?” she gave them a smile and went over to Hermione’s bed. “How are you feeling Mrs. Malfoy?”

“I... err... sore, I guess,” she replied lamely. It’s been a while since someone addressed her as Mrs. Malfoy and she found it a bit jarring.

“Well, let me cast a few spells so I could be on my way and you can rest,” the Healer raised her wand and whispered a litany of spells. As she tucked her wand in her pocket, the Healer muttered an ‘oh’ and pulled out a small envelope. “I almost forgot. Mr. Malfoy dropped this yesterday but you were still sleeping. He asked me to give it to you once you woke up. Here, let me return this to its original size.”

She enlarged the envelope and handed it to Hermione. “Have your friends call me if you need anything.” With that, she exited the room, leaving everyone’s attention to the large brown envelope on Hermione’s lap.

Somehow, Hermione knew what’s inside the envelope and dread instantly filled her as she slowly opened it. Her hand touched a small parchment and she pulled it out first, noticing the familiar handwriting.

> _Dearest Hermione,_
> 
> _I realized that love isn’t about taking what you want; it’s about wanting happiness for the one you love so I’m giving you your freedom back. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you and I hope one day we can still be friends._
> 
> _Know that I'll always be there for you if you ever need me._
> 
> _With all my love,_   
_Lucius_

“Mione, what is it?” Ron spoke, handing her a tissue.

It was then that Hermione realized she was crying but it wasn’t the tears of joy that she had expected. Her heart dropped as she pulled out the divorce papers. Glancing at the bottom was her signature signed months ago and beside it was Lucius' signature, freshly signed.

“H—he... he signed the papers,” she finally looked up to see her friends looking at her with sympathy. “Merlin, what have I done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I've ever written. I'll be away on a vacation on my birthday next week so I won't be able to post another update.
> 
> I love hearing from you guys so please don't hesitate to leave a comment. Your feedbacks influence the flow of the story.


	6. No Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally found the time to re-read and edit the previous chapters. If there are still errors, please let me know.

**March 1998.**

Hermione stirred and her eyes fluttered open. It’s been a week since the incident at Gringotts and she felt immensely better. The Muggle doctor told her she would be clear to get up, get dressed and start moving about. The IV was gone and though she was still on a light dose of oral pain meds and antibiotics, there was no infection and her prognosis was good. Except for the collapsed lung, most of her wounds were superficial but she still needed rest and time to heal.

During Hermione’s hospital stay, Lucius dutifully assumed the role given to him by law. He signed documents for her, answered questions, listened to doctors and inquired about her treatment, her medication, her progress, her rehabilitation. He was nothing if not thorough, fully aware of every small detail regarding her physical health.

She had a sense that she was with him before she opened her eyes, the way people can sometimes tell that their favorite song was playing on the radio before they even tune in to the station. As her eyes adjusted, she saw him standing on the other side of the room, his back turned to her.

He looked odd to Hermione and it only took her a moment to realize that he was not wearing his usual dress shirt and suit pants. Lucius was wearing a loose black t-shirt and tight-fitting denim jeans. He was wearing jeans. _He was wearing jeans._ Her heart did something funny inside her chest. Hermione can’t help but admire the way they cupped his ass nicely and it took every ounce of her willpower to avert her eyes away. She finally glanced down to see that the black brogues were gone too, replaced by a pair of brown ankle boots.

Hermione had to suppress a laugh. He looked like he could be the lead vocalist for The Weird Sisters. The sound of her muffled laughter caught the blond wizard’s attention and Lucius turned around to see Hermione smiling at him.

“And what’s so amusing to you, my dear?”

“Nothing,” she simply said, trying and failing to stifle a smile.

“You do know you’re a bad liar, Hermione? You can’t lie even if your life depended on it.”

“It’s just... what in Merlin’s name are you wearing, Lucius?”

“Muggle clothes?” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I asked them to procure me a set of clothes to change into since the one I was wearing was... sullied.”

“Seriously, Lucius. Couldn’t you just have bought them yourself? They’re not house-elves,” Hermione frowned.

“They volunteered. Besides, I can’t leave you here alone. It’s not safe.”

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “My wand!”

“Is perfectly fine,” he assured her as he pulled out her wand from a jacket pocket hanging on the bedside chair and handed it to her.

“You didn’t use it?” she asked.

“I only used it once when I needed to make a distraction for us to escape,” At Hermione’s skeptical look, Lucius rolled his eyes. “After all this time, after all I put myself through just to save you, you still doubt me?”

“Well, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t come barging in!” she retorted.

“I already apologized, okay?” he held his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want to fight, Hermione.”

“Who says we are fighting?” she gave him a grin. “I’m just messing with you, Lucius.”

Lucius relaxed a little. “I see someone’s recovering pretty well.” His eyes crinkled in amusement (and Hermione felt her heart skipped a beat) before reverting to its usual annoyed expression. Thank Merlin the Muggle doctor had removed the heart rate monitor or it would’ve been totally embarrassing.

She wished she could capture the exact way he was looking at her now, tried to memorize it before he regained his composure, before he hides his vulnerability under his nonchalant mask. She'd witnessed the transformation so frequently lately.

The difference between Lucius’ real and staged expressions of emotion was a matter of simplicity, she had found. If it was fake, it was one exaggerated emotion. Sarcastic disdain. Condescending surprise. Lucius’ real emotions, however, rose to his stoic face like a simmering saucepan, feelings rising in hundreds of tiny bubbles of expression to the flat surface of the water.

Hermione knew something was different, that something shifted in their current arrangement. She could feel the undercurrent of tension flowing between them after that incident at the bank, but she couldn’t define what it was. It’s not the hateful kind of tension she’s used to, like the animosity they shared during their first week, no. This was a different kind of tension.

There was a light knock on the door, pulling her out of her thoughts and she and Lucius both turned to look as a Muggle doctor entered and smiled at them. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy. How are you feeling today?”

“Ribs are just a little sore, still. But better than yesterday,” Hermione replied cheerfully, cheeks blushing a little at the mention of her as Mrs. Malfoy.

“Good to hear that. We’ll just run a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay and then we’ll let you go. Is that alright?” At her nod, the Muggle doctor proceeded to do the usual diagnostics. After a few minutes, the doctor packed up his things. “Everything seems okay for now, so I’ll have the nurse draw up your release form. Be sure to continue your rest and try to exercise if you can. Mr. Malfoy, I need you to come with me and sign some papers.”

Lucius then turned to Hermione, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. There’s a change of clothes for you at the bathroom.”

Hermione nodded and thanked the doctor before he left with Lucius in tow.

\---

“God, I missed the sun,” she said as they stepped into the busy streets of Muggle London. Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards, letting the warm rays of the sun soak her pale face.

“I quite agree,” Lucius did the same, closing his eyes as he turned his face to the direction of the sun. Being incarcerated in Azkaban made him appreciate the simple things such as the warmth of the sun on a cloudless morning.

He was wearing a pale linen suit this time sans tie and she can’t help but mourn the loss of the tight-fitting denim jeans. Hermione, on the other hand, was wearing a cream-colored flowered sundress and a pair of flats.

A light nudge to his ribs made him open his eyes. “Where to?” she asked him.

“Lunch first, then we’ll see about our current accommodations for your recovery.”

“But I’m perfectly fine! Plus, we’ve already lost so much time,” Hermione whined. “We need to formulate a new plan.”

“No,” Lucius said firmly. “The Muggle doctor said you need to rest and as your husband, he instructed me to look after your therapy.”

“My what?”

“Your husband,” Lucius repeated, sounding exasperated. “Am I not?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Do you want to eat or not?” he interrupted her. It was then that Hermione’s stomach decided to voice its thoughts by growling so loud she swore the entire neighborhood heard her.

“I think I’m craving for some fish and chips.”

\---

It all felt extraordinarily odd to her. No nurse, no needles, no long bed rests. Hermione ate lunch with a real appetite for the first time since she left the hospital, fish and chips, slathering each chip with enough mayonnaise to make Lucius wince.

She ate with vigor, slowly so as to not burn her lips but with a balance of zest and patience and Lucius found himself mesmerized. He licked his lips unconsciously, looking at her. Hermione eating fish and chips was honestly the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his entire adult life.

“This is the best food I’ve ever tasted in my entire life,” Hermione moaned as she bit into a chip dripping with mayonnaise, a few of it dripping on the side of her mouth and Lucius wanted nothing more than to reach out and lick it clean, wondering if she would taste better than the food she claimed to be the best. But the thought was gone as soon as Hermione wiped the side of her mouth with a tissue paper.

He hid his disappointment with an undignified snort. “Then you clearly haven’t tasted real food.”

She noticed him staring and became suddenly self-conscious. A hand went up to cover her mouth and she laughed, a slow, simmering lilt. He decided that he wanted to hear that sound as much as possible and was committed to discovering new ways to produce it.

“Oh come on, this is really good. Larcy’s has the best fish and chips in the entire Muggle London. Here, you should try it,” she then plucked two pieces of chips dipped in mayonnaise and offered it to him.

Lucius looked her carefully in the eyes before wrapping his lips around her thumb and two fingers that were holding the chips, before slowly and carefully pulling it from her hand into his mouth.

Hermione’s gaze never left his face but she had absolutely no idea what to say or do next. She fully expected Lucius to decline or at the very least pluck it begrudgingly from her fingers and eat it. Taking her fingers into his mouth was entirely unexpected and when she felt his tongue swipe some of the mayonnaise from her fingers, she felt her lungs collapsed again. _Merlin in knickers, I think I need to go back to the hospital._

“Thank you,” Lucius said as he released her fingers from his mouth’s grasp, “It does indeed taste delicious. I think I’ll order one for myself after all.”

Hermione doubted that he’s still talking about the food anymore.

Lucius then stood and made his way to the counter to order as well. He had to admit the food was pleasant but the look of shock and pure, unadulterated desire on her face was more delicious. Turning around to look at Hermione, he was amused to see she was staring in wonder at her fingers.

“I got us another cup,” he said as he placed two cups of Yorkshire tea in their table. He then went back to get his plate of fish and chips.

Hermione looked up from her semi-trancelike state, managed to find her voice and thanked him although she’s pretty sure it came out more like a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “So, err, where are we going to stay? Are we going back to Paris?”

“No,” Lucius said as he dipped a chip in mayonnaise and Hermione can’t help but watch entranced as he popped it in his mouth. Only Lucius Malfoy could make eating fish and chips look this sensual. “You’re not fit to travel whether using a Portkey or via Muggle transportation.”

“But—” Hermione had to swallow hard when Lucius darted out his infamous tongue to lick some of the mayonnaise that stained his fingers. “—w-what if they find us here?”

“Well, we’ve managed to stay in one place here in London for over a week without being discovered. It’s safe to say that no one is looking for us right now as long as we blend in with the Muggles.”

When he didn’t hear a response, Lucius finally looked up to see Hermione looking at him with a somewhat dazed expression. He reached out, placing a finger under her chin to close her mouth. She really is beautiful and he can't help but be charmed by her speechlessness which vanished as quickly as it came.

“A-are we going to stay in another hotel again?” she sputtered. The thought of sharing a bed again with him this time made Hermione all hot and bothered.

Lucius shook his head no. “You’ll see.”

After an hour or so, they both exited the restaurant and started walking, her arm looped around his. Hermione stopped in her tracks when she noticed a familiar-looking establishment.

“What is it?” Lucius asked.

“Nothing...” At his pointed look that clearly says ‘you’re lying’, Hermione sighed. “I just missed my parents, that’s all. We used to go to that bookshop whenever I would go home after the school year.”

“You’ll see them again after the war.”

Hermione shook her head. “Not likely no.”

“Why?”

“Because I obliviated them,” Hermione said, her voice shaking. She’s trying her hardest not to cry, didn’t want everyone to see her like this including him, especially him. “I removed their memories of me and sent them to Australia where they could be safe from You-Know-Who.”

“I’m—”

“No! I don’t want your pity,” she hissed, pulling away from him.

“I was going to say ‘I’m sure we can find a way to bring their memories back.’”

“Oh,” she said surprised. “We?”

“I’m your husband, remember?” he gave her a sad smile. “And I believe that as husband and wife, we have a responsibility to look out for each other.”

Lucius took a step forward and offered her his hand and Hermione surprised him by nudging his hand away and instead took two steps into his personal space and hugged him tightly.

Hermione suppressed a content moan as she buried her face further into Lucius’ chest. It smelled just like him, faint traces of the hotel soap he currently used mixed with the earthy and wholesome undertones of his cologne. It’s warm and safe, something that she would never associate with Lucius Malfoy before.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his chest and Lucius responded by wrapping his arms around her. They stayed like that for a while until Lucius pulled away when they were already attracting the attention of the pedestrians.

“Shall we, Mrs. Malfoy?” he offered his arm again and she slipped hers around it.

Hermione chuckled as she remembered the same words he said to her in Paris after they got married. “Lead the way husband.”

They walked for several minutes until Lucius stopped in front of a building. Hermione looked up and her eyes widened when she recognized it. She looked at him in confusion and Lucius bent down to whisper in her ear, making Hermione gasp in surprise at his response.

“You bought us a penthouse?!” 

* * *

**December 1998.**

"Christmas is coming up.”  
  
"Who needs a calendar when Ronald Weasley's around," Harry sarcastically said.

"We should do something," Ron continued.

"Let's buy a tree and sing Christmas carols around it," Hermione grumbled.

December seemed to fly by so fast, and before anyone knew it, Christmas Eve was only a day away. 

It’s been two weeks since the ambush and almost a week since Hermione was discharged from St. Mungo’s. Even though she’s already well and able to work, Robards still gave her a month to rest and sort out whatever she needed to sort out. Her boss never specifically mentioned it but rumors about her marriage to Lucius Malfoy had been circulating within the wizarding community. To Hermione’s surprise and confusion though, it remained just that—a rumor.

There was never a Daily Prophet issue about it, no mountain of letters and howlers came in her flat. Sometimes, Hermione wondered if she'd been imagining it all but then she would catch sight of the large brown envelope sitting on her study desk at home and reality will come crashing in.

That, and the fact that all her friends kept giving her pitying glances whenever they thought she wasn’t looking. All except Draco who seemed to be taking the news extremely well, calling her ‘mummy’ every chance he got—which was a lot.

"We should do a little something," Draco chimed in.

"What do we have to celebrate? My best friend of umpteenth years had been keeping secrets from me for months, you and I can't have a normal conversation without it turning into another wizarding war, and Hermione is moping because her absentee husband isn’t answering any of her owls. Merlin knows where he is, probably with another woman or dead in the gutter somewhere."

Hermione suddenly got up from the couch. "I'm going to help Lavender," she whimpered as she made her way to the kitchen.

“That wasn’t nice, mate,” Ron chastised his friend.

"You should really get that humbug out of your ass," Draco seconded.

“By all means, gang up on me!” Harry threw his hands in the air in frustration. “No one really gives a frig about me anymore!”

Draco rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics. “Harry James Potter, it’s been two weeks! You can’t stay angry at your friends forever!”

“Well, my two best friends managed to keep secrets from me for months. I think I have the right to stay angry for however long I like!”

“You’re being irrational, Harry,” Ron hissed. “Hermione is going through a lot right now and you’re not helping.”

"Whatever, I'm going for a walk," Harry stood abruptly and got out, slamming the door on his way out.

“And here I thought I’m the diva,” Draco muttered.

"I think a little Christmas get together tomorrow would be nice," Lavender chirped as she emerged from the kitchen, followed by Hermione. They sat a tray full of snacks and cups of tea onto the table.

"Yeah, well Harry went all Scrooge and stomped out," Hermione sighed as she took her seat next to Draco.

"Well, he doesn't have to come. We'll have the party here at your apartment!" Lavender cried.

“Uh love, Harry actually lives here now, you know?” Ron said.

“He can stay at Grimmauld Place for a day.”

"So, who are we going to invite to this soiree?" Draco asked.

"Aside from us, there’s Ginny and Luna. We could also invite Neville and the other boys,” Lavender flicked a glance towards Draco. “You could invite your friends too, Draco.”

The blonde wizard snorted. “They’re not my friends anymore.”

“Well, what about Blaise?” Hermione suggested. “He’s still your friend and last I heard he’s dating Ginny again.”

“I guess, yeah. We could invite him.”

Lavender clapped her hands together in excitement. “You guys know what this means?”

The three looked at her as if she suddenly sprouted a second head.

“Shopping!”

\---

"Honey, we're home! You know you are the luckiest wizard in London. You're living with not one, but two amazingly hot and intelligent—and what in Merlin’s beard is that?" Draco cried as he and Hermione stepped into her apartment, a bundle of shopping bags hanging on both their arms.

Well, their apartment. After Hermione was discharged, she found out that Draco sold his apartment and moved in with her. He reasoned that Hermione needed someone to look after her as she continued her recovery but Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Lucius was behind it. And since Draco was now shacking it up with her, Harry became a frequent visitor until Hermione told him to just move in with them.

"It's a Christmas tree," Harry answered.

"But why?" Draco asked.

"Because it's December and Christmas is only a day away."

Draco squealed and grabbed some decorations from the box on the floor. "I can't believe we have a tree! It’s been so long since I decorated one!"

"It's not a real tree. All the real ones were already sold out so this was the only thing that’s available,” Harry explained.

"I'm surprised at you. After the display earlier I figured you had a lump of coal up your butt," Hermione told him.

Draco giggled as he hung an ornament on the tree.

"What is your fascination with my butt?" Harry asked.

"It's just so damn cute," Hermione said breathily.

"Okay, that's getting a little weird," Draco informed them.

"Well, now we have a tree for our Christmas soiree," Hermione said taking an ornament and placing it on a branch.

"Soiree?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah, we've decided to have a little get together tomorrow," Draco replied.

"Oh.”

“You can come if you promise to be nice.”

“I am nice!” Both Draco and Hermione gave him a look. “Oh, alright,” he acquiesced.

Draco beamed at his boyfriend and resumed decorating the artificial Christmas tree. Harry helped Hermione carry the shopping bags to the kitchen and proceeded to organize things for the upcoming party.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I realized I was out of line,” Harry said as he handed a tray of eggs to Hermione. “I didn’t mean what I said. And I was never angry at you or Ron, you know. I just felt a bit left out.”

“You do know I was only forced to tell Ron so he would stop pestering me?” she said as she levitated a box of tea towards the cupboard. “I know I should’ve confided in you instead of keeping it all to myself but I was so afraid you’ll think less of me if you found out that not only did I marry Lucius Malfoy but I also fell in love in the process.”

“I’ll never think less of you, Hermione,” Harry assured her. “You were the only person who believed in me when everyone else thinks I was crazy for saying that Sirius was being tortured by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries. You never held it against me even though it turned out as a trap and you nearly got killed by Dolohov.”

“I know how it feels being an outcast,” she smiled sadly at him. “So you’re not against me being with Lucius?”

“I’ll admit that it’s a bit disconcerting because this is Lucius Malfoy we’re talking about. Death Eater extraordinaire and was once Voldemort’s trusted lieutenant,” Harry then shrugged. “But who am I to judge you, Hermione? I’m dating his son after all.”

“How did you get over it?” Hermione asked. “You never told me how you and Draco got together.”

“Believe me, the only reason why I haven’t told you is that I, myself, am not sure either. But I know everything changed after that incident in the Gringotts’ vault.”

“Admit it, Harry, you fell in love with my dragon riding skills,” Draco said as he emerged from the living area. He went over to Harry’s side and gave him a quick kiss.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Draco a slight nudge on the ribs. “You wish.”

“Lucius and I read about that in the Prophet,” Hermione interjected, feeling slightly out of place in front of the couple. “Did you hear about a second attack?”

“The second explosion?” Draco asked. “That was you and father? Merlin’s beard, Hermione! You not only destroyed Gringotts completely but also the neighboring buildings!”

“Yeah. Really sorry about that,” Hermione said sheepishly. “When we read about your break-in, Lucius and I immediately traveled back to London to find you guys, only to find out it was a trap. I was hit with a Blasting curse and nearly died.”

“Gods, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed looking concerned. “If we’d only known it was you, we would’ve come back.”

“It’s okay Harry. Lucius saved me just in time,” she sighed again, remembering her stay in the Muggle hospital with Lucius. Tears were forming in her eyes. “I miss him.”

“Oh dear,” Draco came around and hugged her tightly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“What are your plans now?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed defeatedly. “He just vanished Harry. Even the house-elves at the Manor had no idea where he is. He just left them a brief note saying he’s away on business but it’s been three weeks.”

“He’ll turn up,” Draco said as he released her. “A wizard like my father couldn’t stay out of the limelight for that long.”

“For Hermione’s sake, let’s just hope you’re right,” Harry said as he came around and patted her on the back.

\---

Harry and Draco ran around the apartment putting the finishing touches on everything. Even though it was a small group of their friends coming, the duo still had this urge to make everything perfect. Hermione sat in her recliner sipping a rum and eggnog.

A few minutes later, Harry plopped a Santa hat onto Hermione's head. "Cheer up kiddo."

Hermione looked up at him. "I am cheering up. Another couple of these and I'll be the happiest person here," she told him holding up her glass.

Harry shook his head. “Isn’t it a little early for alcohol?”

“It’s never too early to wallow in self-pity,” Hermione told him.

"What up loves?" Ginny asked as she barged into the apartment. "You guys should really lock your doors, there are psychos out there."

"Funny," Draco replied.

"I'm hilarious, I know," Ginny told him.

Blaise followed Ginny in, hiding behind her a little.

"And hello to you too Blaise," Draco laughed.

"What are you doing? Get out from behind me," Ginny gently nudged him in their direction.

Blaise sighed and stepped out from behind her revealing a hideous red sweater with reindeers dancing across it.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

"Molly gave it to me," he replied.

"Why are you wearing it?" Draco questioned.

"Because Ginny says it's the nice thing to do."

"And it is!" she cried.

"That is the worst sweater I have ever seen," Draco giggled.

"Leave me alone!"

By nine in the evening, the soiree was in full swing. Ron and Lavender arrived shortly after Ginny and Blaise, followed by Luna and Neville. Even Seamus came although he had to leave early to celebrate Christmas with his family. Right now, the boys were playing beer pong on the kitchen table while the girls were chatting in the living area.

“How are you, Hermione?” Ginny asked her as she grabbed her hand. “I heard from Ron about you and... Uhm... Lucius Malfoy.”

“To be honest, Ginny? I’m not fine,” She admitted. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would never be this open but she had one too many rum and eggnog.

“You’ll be okay,” Ginny assured her, squeezing her hand a little. “You’re the strongest, most resilient witch I know.”

“I thought you would hate me, or at least be very angry with me for getting into a relationship with him? He almost killed you back then Gin.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Hermione asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Lucius Malfoy approached me after his trial and practically asked for my forgiveness. To be honest, it was ancient history for me but it was an interesting experience nonetheless. I said I forgive him and we should all start to move on.”

“That’s incredibly mature of you Gin,” Hermione beamed at her friend.

“Well, you’re my role model Hermione.” Ginny smiled back. “So have the two of you worked things out?”

“No,” Hermione frowned. “I don’t know where he is Gin. He’s been gone for three weeks now.”

“He’s in Australia,” Luna dreamily said. “I’ve always wanted to go to Australia.”

The two witches whipped their heads in Luna’s direction. “H—how did you know, Luna?” Hermione asked.

Luna pulled out today’s edition of the Quibbler from her bag and handed it out to Hermione. “I was going to tell you about it when I got here but I got distracted by the Nargles hanging around your Christmas tree.”

Hermione opened the Quibbler and sure enough, there was a photo of Lucius Malfoy. It’s him alright but everything was different. His long blond hair was cropped short that he now looked like one of those Roman statues on display at museums and he was wearing Muggle clothes. He was sitting in what looked like the outside of a café and Hermione’s heart sank when she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Lucius was chatting animatedly with a woman whose back was turned from the camera, his pale grey eyes crinkling in amusement, it was a look that he only reserved for her.

Technically, to Lucius’ knowledge, they’re divorced so Hermione can’t really blame him if he decided to move on from her and find another lover (and she was the one who pushed him away after all) but she can’t help the anger and jealousy from bubbling up the surface. She still hadn’t filed the papers so, in every sense of the way, he’s still her husband.

“Maybe it’s just a business meeting?” Ginny tried.

"Are you on his side?" Hermione asked with death in her eyes.

"He's a bastard coated bastard with bastard filling," Ginny said quickly.

“What’s up, ladies?” Harry asked as he carried three bottles of beer to the three witches sitting on the couch. At the expression on Hermione and Ginny’s faces, Harry immediately went into Concerned Big Brother mode. “What’s the matter?”

“We found Mr. Malfoy!” Luna chirped.

Hermione showed him the newspaper, tears were brimming on the edges of her eyes. “Oh shit.”

“It’s fine. I’m okay. Excuse me,” Hermione suddenly stood and made a beeline for her bedroom, nearly knocking the glass of rum and eggnog Draco was holding in the process.

“Oy what happened to Hermione?” Draco asked as he heard a door slam shut.

“Heartbreak, Ferret,” Ginny replied as Harry handed the newspaper to him. “Our friend’s going through a heartbreak.”


	7. Heaven Is A Place

**April 1998.**

“Can we go back now?”

“Just one more lap, my dear. This is an important part of your therapy.”

“Is there any other method that doesn’t involve walking around in circles?”

“I have something in mind. You only need a bed and a willing participant,” his voice had dropped to a low purr and he was looking at her in a way which made her heart begin to pound.

Hermione huffed and clutched the sleeve of his coat for support as she tried to regain her breath. Hopefully, he’d think that the blush on her face was from the exertion and the afternoon heat of the setting sun rather than his risqué suggestion of a different method of exercising.

She couldn’t work out what was going on with him. Ever since they got out of the hospital, Lucius had been acting odd. One minute he’s cold and detached, and the next minute he’s all over her personal space like a clingy toddler. The sudden shift in his moods greatly confused her. Harry and Ron were never this mercurial.

With an exasperated sigh, she straightened up. “You should have let me die, Lucius. Nobody told me about this aimless walking.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Stop being overly dramatic. We’re just walking.”

“Do you even realized how longer your strides are compared to mine? I practically had to jog to keep up with you!”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I did! An hour ago!”

They’ve been walking in circles around Hyde Park for over an hour now. Hermione’s Muggle doctor had advised Lucius to make sure she’s getting enough rest and exercise for her health to return to normal. A simple Wiggenweld Potion would speed up Hermione’s recovery but they had to venture to a wizarding shop to acquire it or its ingredients and they couldn’t risk it. Not with her health still fragile. So the Muggle way of healing it is.

“One more lap then we’ll take a break, get dinner. Your pick.”

“Really?” Hermione was smiling mischievously. “You’d let me choose?”

Lucius immediately realized the precariousness of the situation he’d gotten himself in. “On second thought—mmff!”

Hermione instantly reached up and clamped a hand over his mouth. “No take backs. We’re getting Chinese.”

Lucius gently removed the hand that was covering his mouth. “Fine,” he replied resignedly. They started walking along the path again with Lucius slowing his strides so she could keep up.

It was only halfway through their walk when Hermione realized that he was still holding her hand and was surprised that she felt no inclination to let go. 

\---

"You seem preoccupied," Lucius said.

Hermione snapped up and looked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"I said you seem preoccupied. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know," she replied with a laugh.

"What a conundrum."

They were in his room and had just finished eating dinner, empty containers of Chinese takeout were scattered across the bed. Hermione was currently sprawled out across his unmade bed, barefoot as she scribbled notes after notes regarding their next course action. Lucius was pacing about the room, his Muggle coat discarded and his shirtsleeves rolled up.

Hermione vanished the containers with a flick of her hand, a wandless magic technique Lucius taught her a few days ago. "No, I'm just thinking about how much everything has changed. It’s not so long ago we both hated each and now we’re eating Chinese takeout in your bedroom in the middle of Muggle London. I just wonder what will happen next when... when the war is finally over," she held her gaze and waited for his reaction.

Lucius merely sighed and continued his pacing. “I never hated you.”

“You wanted to eradicate my kind,” she refuted.

“What we wanted was a complete separation of Purebloods from Half-bloods and Muggleborns. The Dark Lord filled my head with such promises that I suddenly didn’t care anymore about his methods as long as it achieved my goals,” he suddenly stopped pacing and turned to face her. “I didn’t realize how much of a fool I had been until it was too late.”

“Do you still believe in those things?”

“Some,” he smiled sheepishly at her.

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!”

“How did you know my full name?”

“Don’t change the subject!” she hissed.

Lucius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t just shake off everything in a snap, Hermione. These beliefs have been ingrained in me since I was born and to completely let go of them... I don’t know what will be left of me. There are times where I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

"You're Lucius Malfoy," Hermione said softly. "And tomorrow you'll still be Lucius Malfoy regardless of your beliefs."

Lucius didn’t know how to respond to that.

Groaning, he went by the bed and flopped down on the mattress, his back cradled by the soft comforter as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Beside him, Hermione gathered the notes she made and pushed it to the side, rolling over to face him. She poked him in the side, eliciting another groan from his lips, then trailed her fingers lower and tickled his waist.

Lucius wasn’t the slightest bit ticklish, but he lowered his hands from his face regardless, starting slightly when he noticed how close she was, her face mere inches from his. She looked tired too, but still impossibly beautiful, her mass of wild hair cascading down her shoulders. Without thinking, he shifted closer, moving onto his side, reaching out to tuck her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, and he couldn’t help letting his fingers linger as they skimmed her soft cheek.

Fuck, this was real, wasn’t it? Here they were, alone in the middle of his bedroom, atop a king-sized bed, inches apart, so close that their breaths mingled in exquisite harmony. Lucius moved closer still, letting his nose brush against hers, and a tiny sigh escaped her lips as the corners turned upwards, and she nuzzled him back, eyes drifting open lazily to meet his.

He may be older, but he was certainly not dead; Hermione wanted him.

Her hands flattened against his chest, the warmth of her palms seeping through his dress shirt, “Hermione,” he whispered. It wasn’t just her name in that single word. It was a question, a very important question.

“Yes,” she said in kind.

And with that single word, his control was broken.

They stared at each other for a moment before he closed the distance and kissed her, their lips meeting in a gentle press that lingered, an infinitesimal moment of bliss that held so much promise. Kissing her was unlike anything he had experienced, electric and passionate.

His voice filtered through the haze, low and grating. “Are you sure about this?”

If there were any sense left to her, she would stop this, push him away. He would let her. She knew he would bend. The intractable Lucius Malfoy would move the entire universe for her.

“I want this.” And at the feel of his nails digging into her thigh as he hoisted it up to wrap around his waist, “I want you.”

At her words, each simultaneously decided to take the plunge, their lips snapping back together as if caught on a spring coming back to itself. Lucius threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her closer still, parting her lips with his tongue as she wound her arms around his back. Hermione shivered under his touch as their bodies melded together, one of her hands threading through his hair as the kiss grew more fervent.

“Beautiful” he ran a hand over the fabric and across the imprint of a nipple, earning a soft gasp from her lips.

“Lucius,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” he paused where he was running his hand over her. She tugged at his dress shirt and he understood her meaning. Smiling he pulled back and removed his top, tossing them with her own on the chair. His body still held its lean muscle of his younger years, and he was grateful for that as he watched Hermione’s eyes darken as they raked over him.

Lowering himself over her, he kissed her once more, this time as her hands wandered the bare skin of his chest and back. Without moving away he rid himself of his shoes and slacks, shifted her to the center of the bed and crawled on with her.

She felt wonderful underneath him, her body fitting into his perfectly. He could spend days in this bed, with this woman, making a sensory map of her topography, of all the places on her body which he would explore with his hands, his tongue, his very self.

With a flick of his hand, he vanished her clothes and there she was, bare before him, and so breathtakingly gorgeous that his mind blanked from the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs. Lucius kissed every inch of her that he could reach, his hands roaming her smooth, unblemished skin, cupping her breasts and the curves of her ass, slipping between her thighs to find her slick heat.

His tongue laved at her clit, stroking the sensitive little nub as he curled his fingers inside of her, finding the spot sure to make her squirm. Hermione’s hips jerked upwards, her hands reaching down to fist in his hair, dragging him closer as she neared her peak. Lucius kept up his attentions until she shook beneath him, his name falling nearly incoherently from her petal-pink lips.

“Lucius,” she cried out and then sighed, hands clinging to his biceps as she came down.

The flush, he could now see, went to her breasts, trailing off over her ribs. Though she was slender, her small breasts were beautiful, the rosy jeweled tips begging for his mouth. He did not make them beg for long, bending down he captured one in his lips, suckling deeply. She was panting and writhing beneath him as he worked her flesh into a frenzy.

When she was begging for him, he was a man possessed, vanishing his boxers away and aligning himself with her body. Her curls were soaked as he trailed the head of his cock over her, then dipped into her.

With a smooth movement, he slid inside of her but froze the instant he came up against something he had not expected. His eyes shot to hers, “Hermione?”

She nodded, “Please, Lucius,” she held to the back of his neck and with a deep breath, he sank through the barrier of her virginity and into the tight, heated depths of her.

She whimpered at the sharp bite of pain but held tightly to him until he was buried fully inside of her. She wiggled a little, attempting to quell the feeling of fullness but it didn’t help, she felt filled to bursting as her body stretched to accommodate his.

He held still, holding himself over her on his elbows, a soft groan of satisfaction the only sound he made. She hadn’t told him, before, because she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him, just as she had for a while now, she wanted him to take her, to be her first.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, kissing his way across her jaw.

“Yes,” she smiled as he gently nipped at her. His hips rocked, moving carefully within her and she gasped at the foreign sensation. She could feel the long, thick length of him as he moved, taking her slowly, gently.

Her hands wandered his back, marveling at the play of muscles as he moved. He had a strong, powerful body, and she loved the way he felt against her. Soon the ache faded into pleasure and she was gasping as his hips slapped against hers, a spike of pleasure jolting through her each time he filled her.

“Hermione,” he growled, leaning down to kiss her. She smiled into the kiss, knowing that the great Lucius Malfoy was losing control, that she had driven this man to such lust that he could do nothing but thrust into her, chasing his release.

Her back arched. His name tumbling out on a sigh as she started to meet him. Their movements were synchronous as the waves along the shore. Building, building, building until they were a frantic storm, pitched high and perilous, battering the banks beyond reason.

Lucius trembled in her arms, his back sweat-slicked, eyes wild and verdant as he watched every sensation play over her face, watched as it became too much, too, too much. Her lids slammed shut, unable to process the unraveling of her own body beneath the beating of his hips. Crying out when he guided her hand between them, giving her control over her own release.

Blindingly, it washed over her. Her legs shook, arms shook, her body coiled tightly around him as he continued to ram into her deepest recesses until his own body stuttered and tensed. A growl of profound bliss in the shape of her name uttered against her wild hair as he emptied himself into her, utterly and completely.

All he knows and all he says is her name on his lips, a prayer to the gods he had long ago ceased to believe in. His name on hers, a benediction.

When Lucius withdrew from her and her skin began to cool, Hermione had the thought that she should feel different. Yet, despite her previous inexperience, she hadn't been an innocent for years. The blood on her thighs no different than that on her hands. Life despoiled her years ago when she started studying at Hogwarts. Instead, she felt relaxed. Sated in a way that her own fingers had never managed.

Later, as she lay asleep in his arms, Lucius breathed in the scent of her hair and whispered; “You’ve ruined me, my dear."

* * *

**December 1998.**

"I'm going to kill him," Harry said for the millionth time that hour. He and Draco were cleaning the mess from last night’s soiree while Hermione was still in her heavily warded room.

"I believe you," Draco replied.

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

“Everything.”

"He puts on this grand act that he's a reformed wizard capable of love and then bam! Does this!"

"A regular jackass,” Draco murmured.

"Leaving her is one thing but immediately replacing her in just a few weeks, well, that's despicable!"

Draco’s had enough. "C’mon Harry. You know I love Hermione, but you have to admit that she was the one who pushed my father away."

“Are you seriously taking his side?”

“Of course not. Duh. I’m just stating the truth!”

"I can’t believe you!” Harry threw his hands in the air and stormed off to their room leaving Draco standing there looking bewildered.

“What did I do?” he muttered.

“Nothing.”

Draco whipped around to see Hermione leaning against the wall that separated the dining room from the living area.

“When did you come out?” he asked warily.

“Somewhere in the middle your shouting match. I needed to be here in case another wizarding war broke out again.”

“Humor still intact, I see,” Draco gave her a sardonic grin. “Help me out?”

The two continued cleaning up the house, magically arranging everything back in its place and levitating the dirty dishes to the sink. Then they began washing the dishes the Muggle way—part of Hermione’s condition if the boys wanted to stay in her apartment. Every now and then, Draco would glance at her from the corner of his eye.

“Hermione are you—"

“No, don’t,” she cut him off. “I can take it from Harry and the others but not from you. I don’t want your pity, Draco. You’re right. I was the one who pushed him away and now your father clearly had moved on and I think it’s time for me to move on as well and be happy.”

She smiled at him sadly. “I’ll file the divorce papers tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But I don’t want this to come between me and Lucius. He’s already suffered enough and I don’t want to give the Prophet ammunition to destroy both our lives by making a spectacle of this.”

“As if they could,” he snorted and Hermione gave him a confused look. “Didn’t you ever wonder why you two never made it into the front page even though father made such a grand performance in the lobby of St. Mungo’s?”

“It did seem odd to me.”

“That’s because father owns 30% of the shares and is, therefore, the majority holder of the company. Nothing about him goes to print without his approval. The only time The Daily Prophet dared to run an article against him was when he was sent to Azkaban since they thought he couldn’t touch them from there. Well, of course, that was true but when father finally got out, he sacked almost half of the staff.”

“That’s... understandable,” she was going to say horrible but Hermione had firsthand experience of being on the receiving end of Rita Skeeter’s harsh words so she understood where Lucius was coming from.

“You’re not mad?”

Hermione shook her no and was about to open her mouth to explain when she suddenly felt a probing sensation as someone tried to penetrate through the wards of her apartment. “Someone’s at the door,” she said as she pulled her wand from her holster and gingerly approached the front door.

Draco had abandoned the dirty dishes and was now holding out his wand too as he followed Hermione closely behind. He heard Hermione murmur a relieved “oh” before starting to lower the wards. “Who is it?”

“A friend,” was her cryptic reply as she opened the door. “Bonjour, Monsieur Sauveterre.”

“Call me Antoine please,” he smiled and gave Hermione a brief hug. “Draco?”

“Antoine?” Draco looked between Hermione and his father’s friend. “You two knew each other?”

“It’s a long story, Draco. Perhaps we could talk later? I’m staying here for a few days and I could use a tour.”

“I’d be happy to,” Draco glanced at Hermione and nodded his head. “I’ll leave you two then.”

When Hermione heard the door to Draco and Harry’s room clicked shut, she turned to her visitor and gestured for him to follow her. “Let’s talk in my study,”

They talked for almost an hour, the topic only circling within their respective fields of work. Both avoided talking about their one common denominator—or mostly it was just Hermione who was avoiding because, after a few minutes of discussing politics, Antoine finally sighed and put down his teacup.

“Mademoiselle,” he addressed her. “Are you happy?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Antoine raised his eyebrow at the response. “You know what I’m talking about, Hermione. Lucius often told me how intelligent of a witch you are.”

At the mention of his name, Hermione looked straight at Antoine, her eyes clear. “Happiness is relative, monsieur. I am happier than I was before. There were no longer exhausting arguments. I no longer had to compete for the shadow of a dead woman and I no longer had to worry myself if he’ll eventually grow tired of me.” Hermione clasped her hands together in an attempt to stop the shaking, “But I was happiest when I was with Lucius when he was there with me. I will not lie.”

“So why divorce him?” Antoine’s glance flickered to the papers lying on the study desk, suddenly finding it offensive.

“Because happiness is also a choice,” Hermione’s gaze drifted to the papers, a sad smile on her face. “And this is mine.”

“Very well, but do you not want to know how Lucius is doing?”

Hermione blinked, biting her lips. A moment of silence later, she gently shook her head, her voice soft. “No, I don't need to know.” _No longer._

Antoine looked at Hermione with kind eyes, but the words that fell out from his mouth shocked her to her very core.

“I know what Lucius is and the horrible things he had done when Abraxas made him take the Dark Mark. Lucius is a prideful man who always put his self-interest first, but he had also placed you on the same pedestal. He tries to the best of his efforts, but sometimes, trying is not enough.” Antoine shook her head.

“Lucius came to me two weeks ago. He has been working more than he should, drinking more than he should, not paying attention to his health. My dear friend is a man of control and all these are unheard of. Hermione, you have been his exception. He was weary from all the consequences he faced during and after the war and you have always been his shelter, more than he let on. He was happiest with you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione spoke, her voice low.

“Because my friend deserves happiness.”

Hermione stared up at Antoine, her eyes defiant, her tone strong, “He can always look for someone else. Someone of his equal standing.” She didn’t bother to mention that Lucius had already found someone else. Hermione couldn’t say it out loud.

Antoine smiled gently, shaking his head, “But they will never be you.”

When Hermione didn’t respond, he stood and gave her hand a brief kiss, “Think over your decision, Hermione. Happiness is a choice.” He threw the words right back at her and Hermione could only watch him leave as she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the stack of papers over and over again.

When Hermione was a little girl, she had an uncle who kept a photograph of a woman tucked in the back of his wallet. She was always confused and a little frightened when he would take the photo out, because why would he want to keep something that always made him look so terribly sad? She asked him once who it was, remembered the quiet way he told her that he'd once had a girlfriend that had died in a car accident.

They were only twenty years old and they'd been planning to get married.

Her uncle said she was the love of his life. Hermione remembered that specifically, the exact sound of his voice as he said it because it was the first time she'd ever heard that phrase and it had all seemed so huge and important and sad.

It's that day in St. Mungo’s when she realized it wasn't wounded pride or anger that ultimately made Lucius leave her. It's all so much simpler than that.

He just looked at her the way her uncle used to look at that old photograph.

Like every single thing he ever wanted was right in front of him but for an impenetrable wall of glass, and only the faintest, most fragile thread of control was keeping him from just collapsing to his knees and crying out against the barrier.

She knows now.

She broke his heart.

And it's not fair—she didn't even know she was responsible for his heart, how was she supposed to know that she could break it? How could he not tell her, warn her, something?

How could he not know that reciprocated feelings or no, she would never treat him so carelessly? She realized that it didn't really matter what she knew then. All that mattered was what she knew now, and what she knew now was that she was not okay with having caused him so much pain—stubborn, non-communicative idiot though he may be.

It's not because she owes him anything or whether he deserves it or not.

It's just...

Merlin, she broke his heart.

How can she live with hurting him like that?

And maybe he broke hers a little too, leaving like he did. Maybe this was why they're always such a damn mess around each other, and maybe this was why now—ever since the nurse handed the divorce papers—she misses him like a severed limb.

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked up to see Harry standing by the door of her study. “What is it, Harry?” 

“Draco left with the French guy. Thought I should check up on you. Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted and glanced at the brown envelope. “Am I doing the right thing, Harry?”

Harry had always seen Hermione as the paragon of confidence and intelligence and it almost broke him to see his best friend question herself especially because of someone like Lucius Malfoy. If he had his way, he’d tell her to forget him and move on, but he knew that Hermione would never be happy. For some unfathomable reason, Lucius Malfoy made her happy and Harry will forever wonder why.

“Is he worth it, Hermione? Do you really see a life with him, a future?”

“I do, Harry. I really do. He’s worth it.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I can’t just come and barge in his life again after what I did and besides, he’s with someone else.”

“For all you know, it could just be an old friend or an associate,” at Hermione’s stern look, Harry immediately explained, “I’m not taking anyone’s side, you know that. And what harm could it do to try and talk to him? If Lucius Malfoy could lower his pride and declare his love for you in public, then why couldn’t you?”

“When did you become so adept in the ways of the human heart?”

“When my best friend kept using her brain instead of listening to her heart for once,” he smiled and took her hand. “So, any plans?”

“I guess a trip to Australia is in order then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what do you think?


	8. Hide & Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is drawing to a close. Just one more chapter and then an epilogue. Thank you for sticking around.

**April 1998.**

Hermione woke up to the feeling of fingers slowly caressing her bottom. It took her a moment to realize that she’s sprawled across Lucius Malfoy’s bare chest and that they had sex last night.

She had sex with Lucius Malfoy last night.

She lost her virginity to a man twice her age last night. Never mind that he’s a Death Eater.

_Former,_ the voice inside her head corrected her.

Instead of feeling repulsed or angry, Hermione felt… at peace. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent, committing it to memory.

“Lucius,” she murmured.

“Hmm,” was the only reply.

Hermione chuckled softly and raised her head to gaze into his eyes but her smile faltered when instead of warmth, all she saw was a pair of cold steely grey eyes.

He’s regretting it. Shit.

_How could I have been so stupid?_

“Lucius,” she tried again, her voice taking on a more pleading tone. Pleading for what? She should’ve known that this meant nothing to him yet she let herself get mixed up in this mess. She was just a means to an end.

Brightest witch of her age bullshit.

When the wizard didn’t respond, she immediately tried to extricate herself but Lucius darted out his hand to grab her arm, his grip a little tight for her liking.

“Let me go, Lucius,” she said as she tried to pull her arm away but it was no use.

“Hermione, I—” Lucius began but it was cut short when he immediately yanked his hand back to clutch his other arm—the one with the Dark Mark tattoo.

Lucius jerked back, causing him to fall off the bed and Hermione heard a strangled cry of pain as she scrambled to her feet. She rushed over to Lucius who was curled on the floor in a fetal position, clutching his arm which Hermione saw was now glowing a faint color of green.

“Lucius, what’s happening?” she asked as she hovered above him. Should she touch him? Would it cause more pain? Hermione felt helpless.

“Dark… Lord… calling… followers…” he managed to say through gritted teeth. Sweat was breaking out of his upper lip and brows.

“What do I need to do?” she asked urgently.

“Nothing,” he breathed. He sounded like he was sucker-punched in the gut. “Just… wait till… the moment… pass.”

“Are they… coming? Are we in danger?”

Lucius closed his eyes and Hermione wondered if he’d fallen asleep. She pushed away some of the strands of blond hair that clung to his face.

“No,” he whispered.

After a few moments, his breathing returned to normal signaling her that the pain had subsided. She glanced at the Dark Mark and it also returned to its original faded black color.

“Lucius—” but she was interrupted when his eyes flew open and he immediately stood.

“Draco,” was all he said and she understood. Lucius started dressing, putting on the clothes he wore last night.

“You can’t be serious!” Hermione stood clutching the sheets to her chest. “We both know Draco would never heed the summon!”

“Don’t presume to know me and my son!” he snapped at her.

Hermione felt fury overcoming her senses but it took only mere seconds for the spark to go out. Her anger dissipated, leaving only despair. The fear of him leaving her all alone was suddenly more palpable. Hermione was suddenly transported back to that night in the forest with Harry and Ron. “Draco isn’t stupid enough to go there!”

“He will if he thinks his father is going to be there looking for him!”

“Lucius, please!”

_Visions of Ron and Harry fighting flashed before her eyes. Ron accusing her of cheating on him with Harry._

“He’s my son! He’s the only family I have left!”

“And I’m not? I’m your wife, Lucius!”

_Ron was making her choose between him and Harry._

Lucius scoffed. “My wife is dead."

She stood there, frozen to the spot as she watched Lucius walk away and disappear—the same way Ron walked out of their tent that night.

Hermione cried herself to sleep, her heart breaking again for the second time.

\---

Hermione woke up again this time by the sound of a loud crack of apparition outside the room. She immediately sprung and clutched her wand tightly in front of her as she slowly crept outside.

Rounding the corner to the living area, she immediately saw a mass of blond hair on the carpeted floor, and as she neared, she gasped in surprise to find Lucius sprawled on the floor groaning in pain. Blood was dripping from a wound on his forehead and Hermione immediately slid over him.

“Lucius!” she gently placed his head on her lap and turned it to the side to examine the wound. It wasn’t deep but blood was steadily oozing out so Hermione held out her wand and muttered Episkey.

The wizard groaned again as the wound slowly healed, leaving a pinkish hue on where it once was.

“Lucius,” Hermione tried once again. “What happened? Can you get up?”

“Yes,” came a hoarse reply and Hermione helped him stand up, letting him support his weight on her as she guided him to his bedroom.

Once settled, Hermione started removing the outer layer of his clothes to check if he has other wounds. As she was about to shrug off his coat, his hand darted out to stop her.

“Dark Lord… attack Hogwarts… tomorrow…” he wheezed out.

“Sshh,” Hermione placed a hand on his cheek. “We’ll discuss it once you’ve rested enough.”

But Lucius didn’t hear her. “Draco… not there… so sorry…” he said before he fell asleep, his hand softly clutching hers.

“I know, my love, I know,” Hermione was startled to find out how easily the endearment came out. What does it mean? Had she really, completely fallen in love with Lucius Malfoy?

The thought made her feel dejected.

Lucius didn’t love her. That much was true, especially with the way he treated her a while ago. This thing between them was just an arrangement to ensure their safety. She had to remind herself that once this was over, they would each go their separate ways.

But what if they didn’t? What if he asked her to keep the arrangement?

She scoffed at the thought. It’s highly unlikely that Lucius would want to stay with her, but she couldn’t help but imagine a scenario in which they remained married after the war is over.

Hermione stripped her view bare of any rosy hazes or flattering fabrications. She could do herself no favors by deluding herself and if she couldn't bring herself to inject reality into a mental simulation when it came to Lucius Malfoy, she had no business ever being with him.

In her mind, she conjured Lucius' wife. She saw a lonely woman. Small, in a house too big for her. Creaking floorboards and closed windows. She saw herself. Sleeping alone in a pristine bed. She saw herself as a plus-one, in pearls and hairpins, in designer clothes, agonizing over awkward official occasions, painstakingly attempting polite conversation and despairing at how far off she was missing the mark.

Was this how his marriage to Narcissa ended up?

No.

Narcissa was a Pureblood just like him. She imagined the two of them at parties, perfectly blending among the elite. She imagined Narcissa’s petite frame in designer gowns and expensive jewelry and how well she carried herself, how perfect her etiquette was, how perfectly she fit into his world. The picture-perfect wife for someone like Lucius Malfoy.

How could she ever compare to that?

She glanced back at her husband’s sleeping form. Lines marred his aristocratic features. There’s no doubt that Lucius would regain his strength after a few hours of rest. Hermione briefly wondered how many Cruciatus curse was inflicted upon him to end up this way.

Tired, stressed, altogether not in the mood to dwell on the wizard, Hermione instead focused her thoughts on what he had earlier said. 

_Draco… not there… so sorry…_

Draco didn’t appear at the impromptu meeting of Death Eaters, therefore, most likely, he’s still with Harry and Ron and is probably still hunting horcruxes.

But Voldemort would attack Hogwarts tomorrow. Why? Last she heard, Snape was headmaster there and a handful of Death Eaters were guarding the castle. Unless…

Hermione gasped. She remembered Harry telling her that Voldemort feels pain when one of his horcruxes gets destroyed.

It might be possible that Harry had finally destroyed all the horcruxes and it’s the reason behind Voldemort’s agitation. Knowing Harry, he might be in Hogwarts, waiting for him to finish this thing once and for all.

Hermione pondered her choices as she watched Lucius sleep. When midnight came and the wizard was still deep in his slumber, Hermione finally made her choice.

She gathered all her things in a small bag she charmed with an undetectable Extension Charm then went over to Lucius’ sleeping form.

Hermione debated whether to leave him a note or not and decided on the latter instead. They owe each other nothing and would remain nothing to each other once the war was over in which Hermione could feel was coming sooner.

She caressed his cheek and she felt her heart clenched when Lucius let out a soft sigh in his sleep. Couldn’t seem to resist, Hermione placed a feather-light kiss on his temple then stood and made her way out of the room.

Shrugging on her coat, Hermione spared one last look at the place before disappearing.

Inside the room, Lucius Malfoy was woken up by the loud crack of disapparition. A feeling of emptiness engulfing him.

* * *

**January 1999.**

“Stop fretting!”

“I’m not fretting!” 

“It’s just my father, Hermione.”

“That’s the thing! It’s Lucius! I’d rather have a fistfight with Voldemort than face your father right now!”

“You’re just as overdramatic as he is, you know that?”

Hermione only grunted in response and resumed her fretting.

She was a woman on a mission—a mission to win back her husband and bring him home. Easier said than done.

As soon as they stepped off the Muggle plane, Hermione had started pacing the tiled floors of Sydney Airport, wringing her hands as she does.

She had planned on going alone the day after Antoine paid her a visit but Draco and Harry wanted to come, telling her that they’ve always wanted to go on vacation and fly on a Muggle plane. It took Hermione two weeks to get the necessary papers because Draco didn’t have any Muggle ID while Harry didn’t have a passport yet.

“So how do we find your father?” Harry asked.

“Well, the house-elves told me that father isn’t staying in any of the Malfoy estates here so I’m guessing he checked into a hotel or something. It makes me wonder what he’s hiding.”

“It’s because he’s seeing another woman!” Hermione stopped pacing but she’s still flailing her arms like an octopus.

Draco gave her an eye roll. “Wanna bet?”

“What?” Hermione thought she had heard wrong.

“I said ‘you wanna bet’ as in ‘prove me wrong, Hermione’,” Draco explained triumphally. “If he’s not seeing another woman then I’m going to call you Mum.”

“And if he is, you and Harry are going to move out of the apartment!”

“What?” Harry ran a hand through his mop of unruly dark hair. “Don’t take the bet, Hermione. He’s a Slytherin! He’s going to win!”

“Hey!” Draco smacked his arm and turned to face Hermione with a smug look on his face. “What’s it going to be Mum?”

“Confident are we, Ferret?” Hermione smirked.

“We Malfoys always are, but you know that, don’t you? You’re a Malfoy too after all.”

“It’s like I’m not even here,” Harry said exasperated.

“I accept,” Hermione held her hand out and Draco took it, giving her a firm handshake.

“I hate the two of you,” Harry mumbled as he dragged their luggage away.

\---

“I think we’re lost.”

“No, we’re not. It’s just that the café isn’t really here.”

They’ve been searching the entire Wizarding Australia for the said café where Lucius was last seen talking with an unknown woman. The sun’s nearly setting and they’re about to give up and call back to London for reinforcements when they passed by the entrance to Muggle Australia.

Harry stopped walking causing the other two who were deep in discussion to bump into his back.

“What’s the matter, love?” Draco lightly nudged Harry.

“I suddenly had an idea,” he turned around to face the two. “What if the reason we can’t find the café is that it’s in the Muggle part of Australia?”

Draco scoffed. “As if my father would venture out there.”

“Think about it,” he snatched the article from Draco’s hand and pointed to the other patrons of the establishment on the background. “Look at how they were dressed. That’s Muggle clothing.”

“You might be onto something there.” Draco dramatically placed a hand on his forehead and looked at Hermione. “Merlin's beard! All those months you spent together in the Muggle world really rubbed off on him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “But Muggle Australia is thrice bigger. How could we ever find it?”

“Well, we ask around. Someone’s bound to know where it is.”

So they plowed on and continued their search but after three hours of constantly asking Muggles, they’re still as clueless as to where the damn café is.

“I’m starving!” Draco whined as he leaned his body on a nearby wall.

“Me too,” Harry seconded. “And my feet are killing me.”

“It’s past seven. I guess we could postpone this and continue tomorrow.” Hermione sighed defeatedly. She’s starting to lose hope that they’ll ever find him.

“Where are we anyway?” Draco asked as he folded the piece of The Quibbler article into the pocket of his trousers.

Hermione looked around their surroundings and gasped in surprise. “I know this place! We’re in Canberra!” But then she deflated a little, tears forming in her eyes. “My… my parents… they live near here.”

“Oh,” the boys said in unison. Harry stepped closer and grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione.”

She squeezed Harry’s hand back and gave the two boys a sad smile. “It’s alright. I tried everything I could but it didn’t work. They still can’t remember me,” she wiped the tears that fell and sighed. “They live in Reid but they have a dental clinic here in Canberra. I’m just relieved to see them unharmed and happy. That’s all I ask.”

Draco pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the two giving them a tight hug. “You have us now,” he whispered. “We’re you’re new family.”

“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered back.

“So, since you’ve been here,” Draco said as he released his hold on the two and trying to lighten the mood at the same time. “Any suggestions as to where we’re going to eat?”

Hermione looked around and thought for a moment. “There’s a pub just around that corner. It’s where I frequently met with my parents when I was trying to restore their memories.”

“I’ve never been to a Muggle pub,” Draco mused and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Well, you’re going to enjoy this,” she said as the started leading the two to the said pub. “They even have karaoke.”

“What’s karaoke?” Harry asked.

“It’s a muggle machine that plays only the instrumentals of a song so you can sing it,” Hermione explained.

“Oh! Do they have…” Draco looked to Harry, his face giddy with excitement. “What’s the name of that Muggle band, love? The one where he sings about being stupid and contagious?”

Harry chuckled. “It’s called Nirvana.”

“I’m sure they have a couple of Nirvana songs in there,” Hermione beamed at the two as they made their way to the pub but she immediately stopped at the entrance, her heart suddenly beating twice fast.

She noticed the hair first. Even from a distance, it’s hard to mistake that kind of color striking out against everyone in the room. The once long platinum blond hair was now cropped short, the style reminiscent of a Roman marble statue. The light of the pub making it look like a halo; like he was an avenging angel out to set the world on fire.

Hermione’s eyes then drifted down to his clothes. He was wearing a white dress shirt underneath a khaki-colored jumper. His bottom was encased in finely tapered black trousers that ended right above his ankles. A pair of black leather calf oxfords finished the look.

A portrait of a gentleman at leisure.

Hermione wanted to weep at the beauty.

“Merlin’s teeth! Is that father?” Draco exclaimed a little too loudly but fortunately, the music from the pub drowned out the sound.

“Shit!” Harry muttered. It doesn’t look good. Looks like Malfoy Sr. was waiting on someone judging by the two vacant seats across him and the three glasses of water on the table. “Hermione, I think—”

He didn’t manage to finish the sentence for the witch in question was already marching towards the wizard. Harry grabbed a dumbstruck Draco by the arm and quickly dragged towards the two, his other hand palming his wand in case he ever needed to use it in an instant.

Hermione was extremely furious. Whatever plans of apologizing and groveling to get him back were thrown out the window when she saw that Lucius was obviously waiting for someone. His new lover perhaps? _Oh Draco, you’re so losing this bet right now._

She stopped beside him and smirked—a smirk that would definitely make Salazar Slytherin proud—when Lucius didn’t notice her.

“Hello, darling. Fancy meeting you here.”

Lucius’ head whipped so fast Hermione wondered if it didn’t give him vertigo. “Hermione?” His eyes darted around nervously looking for something (or someone?) and it only confirmed her suspicions that he’s having an affair with another woman. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Why the questions, Lucius? Aren’t you happy to see me?” she didn’t bother hiding the venom in her tone. “We came all this way to look for you.”

“We?” Lucius stood and looked behind him to see his son and Potter standing a few feet away looking just as nervous as he is. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why, Lucius? Afraid your new lover would find out you’re married?”

“You didn’t file the papers?” Instead of anger, Hermione was surprised to see a flicker of something cross his features. Was it… hope?

“No, I didn't. Not yet,” Hermione said. “I came here to apologize and to tell you that I do love you but clearly I’ve been way too late.”

“You… you love… you love me?” He choked out the last two words.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll file the damn papers when we get back to London. I don’t want to get in between you and your new lover,” she almost spat the last word.

She heard someone clear their throat behind her and then spoke, “Jealousy is very unbecoming of you, sweetie.”

Hermione froze at the familiar voice and term of endearment. A gasp could be heard from where Harry and Draco stood while Lucius merely sighed in defeat and ran a hand through his cropped blond hair.

She turned around slowly and came face to face with Jean and Richard Granger.

“Hello sweetie,” her mom smiled and opened her arms. Hermione didn’t think twice and launched herself into her mother’s arms, crying as she murmured how she missed them so badly.

Hermione pulled back moments later and gave her father a tight hug too. “I’ve missed you, dad.”

“I’ve missed you too, sweetie,” her father replied as he released her.

Hermione turned around to face Lucius, a million questions burning at the tip of her tongue, but he was nowhere to be found.

“He left,” Harry said. “Draco went after him.”

“I did it again, didn’t I?” she groaned. Hermione then felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her mother smiling at her.

“Go, Hermione. Talk to him. We’ll be here,” Jean urged. Hermione glanced at her father and he nodded in encouragement.

“They went in that direction,” Harry stuck his thumb in the direction the two Malfoys left. “Go and find him. I’ll keep your parents company.”

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione squared her shoulders and started running towards the direction her best friend had pointed.

Towards her future.


	9. Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final chapter. There's going to be a short epilogue after this which I'm going to post tomorrow.
> 
> Let me know if there are some loose ends I haven't addressed yet.

**April 1998.**

Hermione landed with an echoing crack just outside of Hogsmeade station. The apparition from Muggle London to here nearly took all her strength and she fell onto her knees, catching her breath as she took her dark surroundings, making sure that no one is rushing to hex her into oblivion.

When over a minute passed and all she could only hear was the rustling of leaves, she gingerly pushed herself up and started stealthily making her way into the village. Memories of happier times came as she passed by some of the shops and she almost shed a tear when The Three Broomsticks came into view.

Hermione froze in fear when she heard two sets of footsteps approaching. She broke into a run, her lungs constricting at the pressure she’s putting it through. She whizzed by Honeydukes and Ollivanders, skidding to a stop in front of Tomes and Scrolls.

She peered around and caught sight of a Death Eater walking in the direction she was heading. Hermione pulled out her wand and silently backtracked. Seeing a narrow passageway on her left that led to the Shrieking Shack, Hermione decided to take her chance and go there.

Just as she was about to step in that direction, an arm darted out and its hand clamped down her mouth to prevent her from screaming and another arm pulled her inside a shop.

“Death Eaters are guarding the end of that passageway,” a gruff voice whispered. “Relax Miss Granger. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hermione startled at the use of her maiden name. She was so used to being called Mrs. Malfoy for the past several months that hearing it left her momentarily stumped. She relaxed a little and the person holding her released her.

She turned around and was surprised to see the tall, grumpy-looking owner of the dingy pub near the end of Hogsmeade. It was then she noticed that Hermione was in fact inside Hog's Head Inn.

“Thank you,” she whispered and the wizard merely grunted in reply and disappeared at the back of the counter. She went to the nearest chair and plopped down, trying to regain her breath. A few minutes later, he came back holding a glass of water to her.

“What happened to you?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“Accident,” she said in between gulps of water. She hadn’t realized she was that thirsty. “Still recovering.”

“You looking for your friends?”

“Yes. We got separated a few months back. I’ve been looking for them ever since,” she said as she handed back the glass. Hermione decided to omit the fact that she’s been with a certain Death Eater the entire time.

_Former,_ the voice inside her head corrected her. Again.

The grumpy wizard merely stared at her and Hermione thought he looked oddly familiar. “Who are you?”

The wizard was startled by the question but it vanished as quickly, replaced by an annoyed expression. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m assuming you’re looking for a way in the castle?”

At Hermione’s nod, the wizard motioned for her to follow him. They went to the back of the pub and Hermione gasped in surprise at the large painting of a beautiful young woman hanging on the wall.

“You’re Aberforth,” she said, finally recognizing the painting. “Albus Dumbledore’s younger brother.”

At the mention of the former Headmaster, Aberforth’s face darkened and Hermione stopped talking.

“Ariana paid the price of my brother’s ambitions,” he said and turned towards the painting. “Tell the others.”

The girl nodded and disappeared. A few seconds later the painting swung open.

“The path will take you inside the castle,” the wizard said in a dismissive tone. Hermione took it as a cue to leave. She bid her thanks and proceeded to trudge the narrow path, casting Lumos as she walked.

As she got to the end of the tunnel, the wall swung open and light instantly flooded the dark tunnel, momentarily blinding her. Hermione heard noises and she tried to squint through the harsh light but she was then enveloped into the tightest hug, reminding her of that time Harry hugged her in The Great Hall after she had recovered from being petrified.

“Thank Merlin you’re okay!”

Hermione froze, instantly recognizing the voice. “Harry?”

The wizard pulled back and her eyes had finally adjusted to the light. It was indeed Harry and she noticed Ron standing behind him with a huge grin on his face.

“We’ve missed you, ‘Mione!”

It finally sank into her that this was it. They’re here, they’re alive. She found them.

Hermione lunged at them hugging Harry back so tight like she was clinging to her life. Months of dread and worrying finally eased and she felt so light. The pain in her chest seemed nonexistent anymore.

“It’s alright, Hermione. We’re here. You’re safe now.” She hadn’t realized she was crying until Ron was rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Hermione pulled back and wiped away the tears from her eyes. “I’m just glad I found you!”

“Us too,” Harry smiled at her. “How did you know we were going to be here?”

Hermione stopped. She wasn’t wholly prepared to have this discussion with her friends. It was then she noticed the lone figure with platinum blond hair leaning on the wall staring at the floor.

_Draco,_ she thought. She needed to find a way to get him alone.

Her thoughts were interrupted when someone behind Harry cleared their throat. “Sorry to cut the reunion short but we need to get on with the plan.” Hermione craned her neck to the side to see Ginny Weasley smiling at her. “Good to see you’re alive Hermione.”

The two women hugged and as Hermione pulled back, she glanced at Harry. “What plan?”

Harry then proceeded to fill her in. Explaining to her that there are only two Horcruxes left. One is Nagini, You-Know-Who’s snake and the other is an object hidden inside the castle but they have no idea what it is.

“I told you it’s the diadem,” Luna said in that dreamy voice of hers. Gods, she missed everyone.

“But that's the thing, Luna. It’s been missing for years!” Harry cried, exasperated and by the looks of it, they had this discussion already. “We don’t have time to look for it. You-Know-Who’s coming any minute now.”

It’s when a plan struck her. “I have an idea.”

She was surprised to see everyone grinning at her. “It’s really good to have you back, Hermione,” Ron said.

She couldn’t possibly agree more.

\---

“Are you sure about this, ‘Mione?”

“I am Harry. Now go and tell Professor McGonagall about the plan.”

Hermione saw Harry flicked a glance in Draco’s direction before leaving with Ron and Neville to blend in with the other Gryffindors marching towards the Great Hall. Ginny, Luna, and Seamus went to inform the other Order members that Harry is alive and is in Hogwarts needing assistance while Hermione and Draco went to find the missing Horcrux.

“Granger—” Draco began as soon as they were alone.

“Your father’s alive,” she interrupted him. “I was with him since that night at the Manor.”

Draco’s eyes went wide at the revelation. “Where is he?”

“He’s safe in Muggle London. He’s still recovering from the Cruciatus curse,” she said as she half dragged Draco towards the Ravenclaw tower. Something about what Luna said about the diadem nagged Hermione’s brain.

“What—” He was stopped by the sudden noise coming from the Great Hall. A minute later, Hermione heard students cheering and everything in the castle seemed to burst into life all of a sudden. It was time.

“Draco listen. I’ll take you to your father once this is over,” she pondered for a moment. “If he’s still there.”

Draco still seemed to be in shock. “Snap out of it, Malfoy! We have to find that Horcrux! The Death Eaters are gone from the castle and Voldemort will be here any minute!”

At the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, Draco’s focus snapped to the witch in front of him. “Let’s go.”

\---

“You have your mother’s eyes.”

The four of them were at the Shrieking Shack with Harry and Draco trying desperately to heal Severus Snape. But not even a bezoar could cure Nagini’s venom and the former potions professor uttered his last words to Harry before succumbing to his death.

Draco’s sobs echoed across the empty room. Harry handed Hermione the vial containing Snape’s memories, planning on viewing them later on Dumbledore’s Pensieve, and knelt beside to console Draco.

Hermione’s heart wept for him. She knew from Lucius’ stories that Draco looked up to his godfather, much the same way Harry looked up to Sirius. And the fact that he’d just lost his mother a few months ago. Hermione couldn't imagine the pain he's going through.

“We have to go,” it was Ron who spoke. His face was impassive but Hermione detected a sorrowful tone in his voice.

“We can’t leave him here,” Draco said in between sobs.

“There’s—” whatever Ron was about to say was cut off by the soft swirling sound of apparition.

Ron and Hermione instantly drew their wands only to gasp in surprise to see Lucius Malfoy on his knees, catching his breath very much the same as Hermione did back in Hogsmeade station.

“Father!” It was Draco who recovered first, immediately wiping the tears from his eyes.

Lucius looked up surprised to see that he was not alone. “Draco?” He looked around and noticed the other occupants of the room. His eyes softening as it landed on Hermione.

“Don’t make any move,” Ron warned, his wand trained on Malfoy Sr.

“I’m unarmed.”

“Hey! That’s my father!”

“It’s alright, Ron.”

The three Malfoys said at the same time. Ron looked confused until Harry stood and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Ron. He’s not gonna hurt us.”

As Harry moved, that’s when Lucius noticed the figure lying on the ground. “Severus,” he gasped. “What happened to him?”

“Voldemort killed him,” Draco said, not flinching as he spoke the name out loud and Lucius felt proud. He could see the fire burning in those bright blue eyes of his.

“We need to go,” Ron repeated, glancing anxiously between Severus’ body and Lucius Malfoy.

Draco was about to argue when Hermione cut him off.

“You three go and look this up into the Pensieve,” she tossed the vial to Harry. “Lucius and I will take care of professor Snape.”

Hermione didn’t miss the shocked expression on their faces at her use of Lucius' given name.

“Are you sure about this?” Harry seemed to keep asking that question again and again and Hermione’s getting tired of it.

“I’m 100% sure Harry. Now go!” she said in a dismissive tone that brooked no arguments.

Harry and Ron nodded before walking away.

“I should stay,” Draco insisted.

Before Hermione could respond, Lucius stepped forward and grasped his son’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. Draco looked to Hermione and then back to his father before running to catch up with Harry and Ron.

“We need to talk,” Lucius said as he turned around to face her but found her instead on her knees draping a cloth over Severus’ body.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lucius,” she said as she levitated Severus’ body and started to walk back to the castle.

“Hermione, wait!” Lucius closed the distance and grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. He was startled by the look of fury dancing in those brown eyes of hers.

“You’re right, Lucius. Your wife is dead—your real wife.” Hermione felt a small amount of satisfaction at seeing him wince at her words. “I forgot that this arrangement was just that—an arrangement.”

She turned around and headed back to the castle with her former potions professor’s body floating behind her. Hermione needed to get away from him, needed to clear her head. Her friends needed her undivided attention and Lucius Malfoy is preventing her from doing that.

They eventually reached inside the castle and everyone was instantly on alert at seeing the Malfoy patriarch standing beside her.

“It’s okay,” she tried to calm everyone as best as she could. Hermione gently placed Snape’s body among the others who had perished during the first attack, her heart broke as she saw Tonks and Lupin among them. “He and his son had defected three months ago. They’ve been on our side ever since.”

“How do we know that’s true?” It was Kingsley Shacklebolt who spoke. "How do we know you're not cursed or Imperiused?"

“Harry and Ron were at the Manor the night they defected. They can vouch for them.”

“Where’s Cissy?” Andromeda spoke behind Shacklebolt, her eyes red from crying.

Hermione felt Lucius stiffen beside her and she nearly reached out and grabbed his hand. 

“Bellatrix murdered her when Narcissa tried to free Mr. Potter and his friends. But we got separated in the process because the other Death Eaters had arrived at the Manor. I ended up with…” Lucius glanced warily in Hermione’s direction. “I ended up with Miss Granger and we’ve both been looking for my son and his friends ever since.”

“Bella killed Cissy?” Andromeda said, her voice wavering as the realization set in that she only has Teddy as family now.

Lucius could only nod solemnly. The explanation seemed to have placated everyone. Losing a loved one is enough of an explanation. Everyone understood the concept of grief.

Hermione then started walking to the late headmaster’s office to catch up with Harry.

“Hermione stop!”

But Hermione kept going. Ignoring the blond wizard chasing after her. As she rounded the corner, she saw Ron and Draco sitting by the stairs. Their faces reflected the sorrow going through them.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He said he wanted to do it alone,” Draco said as he stood and went to them.

The four of them waited for a few minutes until they heard footsteps descending the stairs. Harry soon came into view, a look of shock and resignation etched on his face.

“Harry,” it was Hermione who spoke first. “What happened.”

“I have to do it,” he whispered, not looking at any of them. “I’m one of them.”

“What is it mate? What do you mean you’re one of them?” Ron asked.

“I’m… I’m a… I’m a Horcrux too,” he breathed. “The night Voldemort was killed, a part of his soul latched on to the only living thing in the room—me. That’s the reason why I can speak to snakes, the reason why I can hear his thoughts.”

Everyone gasped at the revelation, even Lucius couldn’t contain his surprise.

It was Draco who recovered first. “There has to be another way. There has to be a way to remove it without killing you.”

“Snape asked Dumbledore the same thing a few years back. In the memories, Dumbledore said that the only way to kill the Horcrux living inside me is if I die by Voldemort’s hands.”

“Oh gods, Harry!” Hermione cried, throwing her arms around her best friend. She’d just got back with them only for him to be taken away again.

Harry pulled back a sad smile on his face. “It’s the only way, Hermione. You’ve destroyed the diadem and once I’m dead, that leaves only the snake,” Harry then turned to Ron and Draco. “Kill the snake. Then you can kill him—forever.”

“Harry,” Draco said and Hermione and Lucius were both surprised to feel the urgency in his tone. “Can I talk to you alone?”

Harry nodded and the rest watched as the two walked away.

“What’s happening to the two?” she asked Ron.

“Better ask them yourself,” Ron shrugged. “I’d better go talk to mum and dad just in case… you know?”

“Don’t talk like that Ron,” she chastised him. “We’ll survive this. We always had. Even Harry will survive this.”

Ron approached Hermione and hugged her tightly. Hermione could feel Lucius glaring daggers across her back. “I’ve missed you ‘Mione.”

“I’ve missed you too, Ron,” she whispered into his hair.

Ron soon walked back to the Great Hall, leaving Hermione alone with Lucius again but before he could speak, she beat her to it.

“You found your son and the war is going to be over soon. Voldemort will die one way or another,” Lucius felt awe at the determination in her face. “You should go back to your son. He needs you.”

“What about what I need?” he countered. “I need you, Hermione.”

“You don’t need me—not anymore. You’re making this arrangement more complicated than it already is,” she hated how her voice wavered at the end of her sentence. “Go to your son, Lucius and stop following me. After the war is over, I’ll draw up the divorce papers.”

She then turned around and started heading to the Great Hall to join her other friends and prepare for the final fight that’s bound to happen soon.

“Hermione,” he called out to her. "This isn't over yet."

She stopped to take one last look at him. “Goodbye, Lucius. Stay safe.”

* * *

**January 1999.**

Hermione easily found them. It’s not that hard to spot two blonds arguing in the middle of the busy street.

_No._ They weren’t arguing. It’s mostly Lucius tearing Draco’s ear from all the shouting he’s doing. It was an amusing sight.

Her laughter caught Draco’s attention and he tried to divert his father’s anger to her instead by jerking his thumb in her direction.

That seemed to do the trick because Lucius instantly stopped talking (and breathing altogether).

“Mummy wants to talk to you,” Draco said smugly remembering the bet he had with Hermione but he shrank a little as Lucius and Hermione both shot him a withering glare. “Right, I think I’m going back to my boyfriend now. You two don’t come back until you’ve managed to talk.”

With that, he practically ran all the way back to the pub.

Hermione turned to Lucius who was standing still as a statue. So caught up with her emotions back at the pub that she didn’t notice the large circles under his eyes, nor how hollow his cheeks had become since she last saw him. And he looked thinner. The muggle clothes he’s wearing only seemed to emphasize his weight loss.

She was suddenly angry—angry at herself for letting this thing become more complicated. Angry at him for letting himself waste away like this. Hermione swore that she’ll set things to rights before this night ends. She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

"I want to talk."

That seemed to snap him out of his daze as Lucius started rambling again. “I don't want to listen anymore, Hermione. I'm done listening. I'm done trying. I'm done caring!”

"Yeah, your love for me ran really deep," she said sarcastically.

"I do love you!" Lucius snapped.

“Me too,” she replied softly. But Lucius just shook his head in denial.

“No, you’re only saying that out of gratitude because I brought back your parents’ memories,” he said as he flailed his arms around, gesturing here and there.

“Lucius, you idiot,” she muttered. “I’m not saying that because of gratitude—although I’m extremely grateful nonetheless! Why do you think I came all this way to look for you!”

That got him to stop flailing.

“Can we talk somewhere? People are starting to stare,” she said as she stepped closer to him.

Lucius looked around and sure enough, there were a handful of people who had stopped walking and was now looking at them. He then glanced back at the young witch in front of him. His wife. She hadn’t filed the papers yet. He felt a surge of hope course through his veins.

He held out his arm for her like he used to. “Shall we, Mrs. Malfoy?”

Lucius was rewarded with a bright smile from her. “Lead the way husband.”

\---

Hermione gasp in surprise as she noticed the place Lucius took her to. It was the café they’ve been looking for in the Quibbler article.

“This was the café,” she immediately explained at his confused expression. “The one Quibbler published a few weeks ago. Merlin, the woman in the photo was my mother!”

“Yes,” he confirmed as he gestured for her to take a seat. “I frequently met your parents here. It took me over a month to convince them that their memories were tampered with. Luckily, I had help.”

“Who? And how did you know about my parents?”

“You told me about them, remember? That day you were discharged from the Muggle hospital. Do you remember what I told you?”

Hermione pondered for a moment, recalling the memory. “You said, ‘I’m sure we can find a way to bring their memories back.’.”

“And as husband and wife, we have a responsibility to look out for each other,” he supplied.

Tears started forming in her eyes. “Lucius I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need for apologies, ma moitié,” her breath caught in her throat at the mention of his pet name for her. “I realized that I’ve hurt you first when I left you there all alone in the penthouse. But you should know that I didn’t leave you because I didn’t care about you nor do I regret what happened that night. You mean a lot to me, Hermione.”

“I said those things because I was confused and scared. Confused about my feelings for you and I was scared for you—of the consequences you will face by associating with someone like me.”

“And then there’s the immense guilt that’s eating me. Guilt because I felt like I betrayed Narcissa by falling in love with someone else. I was never in love with her, I’ve told you this countless times but I was married to her for twenty years. She’d been my partner, my confidant for almost half of my life. Spouses were supposed to grieve for their other half for many months and not fall in love with another in just three months,” he gave her a rueful smile.

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to that. That huge, gaping hole between them that just so happened to have a name and a face and a history. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, Lucius’ first wife, the mother of his child and the one he’d shared most of his adult life with.

“And last but not the least, the guilt I feel because of you.”

“Why would you feel guilty about me?” she asked, confusion marring her beautiful features.

“Because I’ve saddled you into this arrangement and then deprived you of your choices. You’re still young and have a bright future ahead of you whereas mine has been tainted because of my past sins. I felt guilty because I feel like I was holding you back. Before the ambush that led you nearly half dead, I’ve heard from Shacklebolt that you’ve been distracted lately and I realized that it was because of me so I decided to give you your freedom back.”

They were silent for a moment before Lucius spoke again.

“Which brings me to your earlier question, your parents.”

“About that,” Hermione began. “How did you know they were here in Australia?”

“Because of your friend,” he said.

“Harry?”

“No. Mr. Weasley,” he answered, feeling smug at her shocked expression. “I was despondent when you didn’t attend the trial. I nearly asked them to send me back to Azkaban instead. But imagine my surprise when one redhaired Weasley came storming in the holding cell I was temporarily staying and demanded the other Order members that they allow him to speak to me alone.”

“Ron spoke to you?”

“Indeed,” he said as he gestured for the nearby waiter to take their orders. If he was going to do a lot of talking, he might as well make themselves comfortable. The waiter left with their orders and came back a few minutes later carrying two cups of tea.

“But it was more like him punching me in the face and nearly tearing my ear off, calling me names and such. I ignored him and instead asked him about you and why you weren’t at the trial. There’s probably something in my expression because he had this resigned look on his face and then he told me about your trip to Australia.”

“As you know, I was on a five-month house arrest after the trial so I very well couldn’t go to your parents. Mr. Weasley volunteered to help me gain their trust. Turns out that he has a photograph of you two together with your parents back in your second year that wasn’t affected when you obliviated your parents. Which was ironic because that was the very first time I met you.”

Hermione smiled at the memory of the intimidating Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts. “All this time Ron has been going behind my back. That sneaky bastard.”

“He really cares about you,” he said. “I can’t help but wonder what if you’d ended up with him instead. What if I signed the papers early on and you two fell in love. Can’t help my mind from imagining you and him, a little family of your own.”

Lucius felt an ounce of jealousy at the thought.

“I have this dream where you're pregnant, in bed, beside me, naked, and I want so badly to touch you, but you tell me not to, and then you look away. And I touch you anyway, trace the curves of your body, and your skin is so soft and warm, and I wake up feeling alone and miserable.”

“And I said to myself that I can't keep living like this, and I can’t help but think that there's got to be something more to love. But then I think that I might have given up on the whole idea of romantic love. That I might have put it to bed, that day you walked away from me. You know, I think I might have done that.”

He was startled from his thoughts when he felt a hand close around his and looked up to see Hermione gazing at him.

“I’m so sorry, Lucius.”

“I finally now understood the true fate of Orpheus, that love is a constant terror of loss.”

Lucius felt her squeeze his hand and he gripped hers tighter in return. “Is it too late for us, Hermione?”

"I couldn't possibly fall in love with Ron even if you immediately signed the papers because I was already in love with you, Lucius."

Hermione let go of his hand and reached inside her pocket. She glanced around her surroundings to make sure no one was looking before pulling out a small brown envelope. Lucius’ eyes widened as she wandlessly enlarged the envelope to its original size.

“We entered into this arrangement—this marriage—together with one goal, united in its success. I would like us to exit it in the same way—not in the shadow of doubts and questions and misunderstandings. So, here are our divorce papers, signed by both of us, ready to be filed to the Wizengamot at any time. I will not withhold them anymore,” she concluded on a sigh.

Once Lucius had processed her words, he reached out and touched the envelope, running his fingers along it for a moment before picking it up, opening it and taking out the contents—the documents that had haunted him, prevented him from sleeping in his own bed for months, saddened him, angered him, frightened him. He looked at his signature—tight and small and angry, so unlike her natural wide, loopy, carefree script. Her name was on the line right above his—her penmanship perfect. He had only ever seen their names written in their own hands in such close proximity to one another one other place—their marriage license. He traced his index finger over their names and bit the inside of his cheek. Then, taking a deep breath, he proceeded to rip the papers in half, then in quarters, then smaller and smaller. When he was done, he put the remnants back on the table in a neat pile.

He finally looked up at her wide eyes. “I hate these divorce papers. I have hated them for months and months.”

She was silent too long, and he couldn’t quite determine her feelings from her expression. Just when Lucius was starting to sweat anew, Hermione burst out laughing. “Well, that was unexpected,” she admitted after her laughter subsided enough. Hermione leaned forward to better see his face, to coax him to look at her.

“What are you proposing, Lucius? How do you wish to move forward now? Because this? You and me?” she gestured to the space between them. “It’s not just an arrangement anymore. Not for me. It’s a marriage. A real one. I want a real one. Where we live together. Where we have a home. Where you ask me how my day went, and I ask you. Where there is no doubt that at night, every night, we will sleep beside one another. You have a responsibility to me, and I to you. And, not just a legal one. If you hurt, then so do I. If you’re happy, then so am I. That’s what I want. A real marriage.”

“I want a real marriage too, Hermione. I want the things you want, very much. But I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I am a difficult man sometimes,” he admitted.

“Yes, you are, but I love that difficult man—as long as he stays beside me,” she reached for his hand, grasping it tightly in her own. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Don’t ever doubt that. Don’t doubt me. Or yourself.”

“I can promise you that. And, Hermione, I never doubted you or your love for me. I only doubted my ability to accept it fully and to give back to you all that you deserve. I do love you, ma moitié. So very much.”

“I know you do, I know. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t come all the way here and find you. It's not easy being married to Lucius Malfoy.”

“No. No, it isn't, my love,” he chuckled, nodding.

She lifted her teacup and gestured for him to do the same. “A toast to better days, to a future together, to a real marriage.”

“To a real marriage,” he touched his cup to hers. His eyes suddenly widening in realization. “Your parents—”

“Are fine and are happy to see you two finally working it out as a real couple would,” Jean said as she and Richard walked over to their table. “Harry and your son are still at the pub doing karaoke.”

At his confused look, Hermione immediately explained to him what karaoke is.

Lucius then stood, ever the gentleman that he is. “Jean, Richard, I apologize for my sudden departure earlier.” He gestured for them to take a seat, as he moved to sit beside Hermione. Suddenly, he felt like he was seventeen again about to face the parents of the woman he’s courting. Although they did everything ass-backward. Lucius nearly laughed at the thought.

“Nonsense,” Richard assured him. “I know how stubborn and difficult my daughter can be.” Hermione shot her father a look that says ‘drop it’.

Jean then noticed the stack of neatly ripped papers on the table. “I take it things went well?”

“Very well, Mrs. Granger,” Lucius replied, looking proudly at his handiwork.

“Mum, Dad, you do know who he is, right?” Hermione saw Lucius’ smile falter. She didn’t want to bring this up now but she had to make sure her parents are aware of who her husband is and the role he played during the war.

“We do,” Richard replied. “And believe me, I already gave the old ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll wring your neck’ spiel to Lucius.”

Lucius chuckled and turned to Hermione, “And, like what I said to your father, you most probably had already wrung my neck if I ever dared to step a toe out of line.”

“Damn right I will,” Hermione smirked but her face turned serious again when she looked at her mother. “What about you mum?”

Jean Granger looked between her daughter and Lucius for a moment before speaking.

“I must admit, your father and I were a little apprehensive at first what with your age gap and Lucius’ unsavory past,” her mother winked in Lucius’ direction. “But it’s your choice, sweetie. Only you can decide what makes you happy. Does he make you happy?”

_“Mademoiselle,” Antoine addressed her. “Are you happy?”_

Hermione’s mind flashed back to that conversation she had with the French wizard in her study. “A friend came over to the apartment two weeks ago and asked me if I was happy and I told him that happiness is relative."

“But I also told him that happiness is also a choice,” she glanced at Lucius who was looking at her with a curious expression. She reached out and grasped his hand in hers tightly.

“And this is mine.”

Fin.


	10. Epilogue

**February 1999.**

It’s been a month since their reconciliation and a lot of things had happened since then. Her parents decided to stay in Australia since their dental business is already thriving in Canberra. Hermione sold her apartment and decided to move in with Lucius at the Manor while Harry moved back to Grimmauld Place with Draco (although the two were nearly always at the Manor that Lucius had half a mind to tell them to move in too).

Hermione thought everything was going to be good from there but ever since she moved her things in the Manor, Lucius had been acting strange. From redecorating the entire Manor even though Hermione insisted that everything was fine, that they only needed to redecorate the drawing room, to fussing over her like a mother hen even though she had already recovered quite nicely from her injury during the ambush last December.

She’d voiced out these concerns to her mother when she visited her parents one day while Lucius was out doing some business at Diagon Alley. Jean suggested that the two should go on a short vacation while Hermione still has a few weeks left of her sick leave.

Paris was the immediate place that popped into her mind, having missed the place where—as cliché as it sounds—they fell in love. When she told Lucius about her idea, the wizard instantly perked up at the thought. He stopped fussing over her or the decorations at the Manor and instead focused on the upcoming trip. Hermione wanted to pat her back at a job well done.

But she should’ve known that the peace would not last so very long. As soon as they had arrived, they had already argued which hotel they’re going to stay in, which restaurant to go to, and the dress she chose to wear (“Lucius, we’re just having dinner! It’s not a grand ball!”).

They bickered and argued all the way to their hotel room and Hermione wondered if they’re going too fast with their relationship, that maybe moving in with him was a mistake and they should’ve taken things slow.

It was only when Lucius remained silent when she realized she’d voiced these thoughts out loud.

_Shit._ “Lucius, I didn’t mean… Merlin’s teeth! I’m sorry!” She buried her face in her hands. “I did it again!”

So Hermione did what she do best.

She ran.

\---

“Mademoiselle?”

“I don't want to talk right now.”

Lucius found her five minutes later sitting at their usual table at their favorite French restaurant. The maître d’ recognized Lucius instantly despite having his hair cropped short and ushered him to their table al fresco.

“Are you by yourself? Are you waiting for somebody?” he insisted.

“Yeah, I'm by myself and happy to be. I'm an angry person and I just hurt everyone I love.”

“Oh. Well, just my type.” Lucius picked up the chair and sat down right across from her. 

“Okay, I'm not in the mood. I came here to be alone,” Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and avoided looking in his direction.

“Listen, I've noticed you from across the street and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but you're by far the most beautiful witch in this place.”

Despite herself, Hermione can’t help but blush at the compliment knowing Lucius meant every word. “Thank you very much.”

“I'd love to buy you a drink, maybe talk to you, get to know you a little bit. Are you here on business?”

Silence.

“Okay, do you have a boyfriend? A husband perhaps?” he urged.

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione sighed, still not looking at him. “He probably hates me right now.”

“Sorry to hear that. What's he like?”

“I don't talk to strangers.”

“But that's the thing, I'm not a stranger,” he leaned forward as if he was attempting to whisper some conspiracy to her. “No, we've met before on the spring of '98.”

Hermione finally looked at him and despite the impassive face, Lucius could detect a hint of amusement in her voice. “You are mistaking me for someone else.”

“No, we even fell in love.”

“Really? How did you know that?”

“Because I’m sitting here right in front of you.”

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I know I said that I wanted a real marriage, that I wanted to live with you and sleep in your bed but when I finally moved in I guess I got… overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed how?” he asked and Hermione noticed that his tone wasn’t angry or disappointed but rather sincere and understanding.

“You were suddenly everywhere from constantly fussing over me like I just got injured yesterday to badgering me with questions about which color I want for the curtains at the sitting room.”

Instead of explosive anger, Hermione was surprised to see him blushing. “I’m sorry, Lucius.”

The wizard shook his head and reached for her hand something they frequently do when they needed to reassure the other something. “No, it’s perfectly understandable. I guess I got excited to finally have you with me again especially in my home. I wanted to make you comfortable, make you feel that it’s your home too.”

“Anywhere with you is home, Lucius. Whether it’s a run-down hotel room or a luxury penthouse,” Hermione paused for a moment and smiled. “Or the Manor.”

Lucius chuckled, relieved to finally get the tension off between them. He had plans for this vacation, especially the date today which he’s pretty sure Hermione had no clue about.

“Even though I was married for twenty years, this feels new to me as it probably is for you.”

“It is,” she agreed. “I mean, first love, do you even remember who it was?”

“Don’t be daft, Hermione,” Lucius rolled his eyes at her. “Of course, it’s you.”

“Oh, please,” Hermione said casually but at the same time, butterflies were dancing in her stomach and a blush was starting to creep in. “Like you were a virgin before we met. I don't—”

“No, you said ‘first love’, not first sexual experience, okay? I’ve told you this before back when you asked me if I’ve ever been in love. I believe we were both sitting at this exact same spot and there was a Muggle proposing to his lover over there,” he gestured to the middle of the restaurant where now an elderly couple was eating their dinner.

Hermione glanced at the spot where he gestured his hands, remembering the scene so well. She had envied the couple back then, wishing her own marriage proposal was like that. “Okay, fine. Like I'm the first person you ever fell in love with?”

“Pretty much. The first one I felt truly connected to. Sure.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, “I don't think so.”

“What, I wasn't your first love?” she almost laughed at the comical way his face turned from smug to disbelief in a split second.

“No, of course not,” Hermione rolled her eyes for added effect, wondering when will Lucius catch up on the joke.

“Oh. No, I just—I thought I was,” oh sweet Circe! The wizard was pouting now like a twelve-year-old. Hermione suddenly felt bad for tricking him.

“No! Lucius, stop this. It's ridiculous,” she smiled and tried to take his hand but he waved her off. “I’m just joking!”

“It's okay, it's okay. It's not a big deal,” he stood and made a move to leave but Hermione grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No? Okay. How old are you? Come on!”

“I'm forty-six and I have loved only you.”

Hermione can’t help but blush at the declaration. Patrons were now observing them with mild interest. “Lucius, I love you too but I was just pulling your leg earlier. Please have a seat. People are staring.”

The wizard looked around and smirked. “Well, that’s perfect then isn’t it?”

“What—” whatever she was about to say was cut off when Lucius gracefully knelt in front of her on one knee and produced a black velvet box from inside his trouser pocket.

Gasps could be heard across the restaurant as Lucius opened the box and revealed the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Of course, nothing is ever simple with a man like Lucius.

The silver band has bark-like engravings that resembled a twisted vine wood. Leaf-like prongs held an Alexandrite stone winking raspberry red in the dim artificial light of the restaurant.

“There are many things I plan to do all over again, many wrongs I plan to rectify. And I would like to start with this. You deserve so much better than a hasty marriage proposal done in a dingy hotel room with no ring to ever grace those strong and steady hands of yours.”

“Exactly a year ago, we got married here in Paris out of fear. Now I want us to get married again out of love.”

Lucius took a deep breath and smiled at the stunned witch in front of him. “Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy, will you do me the honor of marrying me again? Properly this time?”

“Oh, Lucius,” Hermione sighed and can’t help the tears from spilling. “On one condition,” her lips turning up in a mysterious smile and that’s when Lucius knew that their marriage—in all of its ups and downs—would never be dull.

“Anything, ma moitié,” and he meant it. He would give the entire universe to her wrapped in a neat silver bow.

Hermione tsk-ed, “Now, now, my love. You know better than to agree without knowing the stakes first.”

She ran her fingers through his short-cropped hair and it felt so good that Lucius didn’t care if he was purring like a cat at her touch.

“I don’t care what it is. You know I’ll do anything for you regardless,” Lucius said with determination.

“It’s nothing too hard but it’ll take some time,” Hermione can’t help but chuckle at his confused look. “Oh, Lucius. I just want you to grow your hair back.”

“That’s all?” he asked incredulously, clearly not expecting that kind of request.

“That’s all,” she smiled.

“You have a deal,” Lucius plucked the ring from the box and lifted her hand. In one fluid motion, he slipped the ring into her finger where it now rests snuggly. Cheers erupted from the crowd as the couple sealed the celebration with a kiss.

The circumstances about how their marriage came to be were unconventional but here now with him kissing her in front of all the Muggles, it was everything Hermione had ever dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Their story finally going full circle. I really intended for the setting of the epilogue to happen on this year's Valentine's day—over twenty years after they got married, but the story shifted a little to what I had initially envisioned it.
> 
> This was the first multichapter fic that I managed to finish and I feel quite proud. Heh.
> 
> I have another Lumione story in mind. It's a Harry Potter x The OA crossover where the third dimension was set around the HP universe instead. Hap is Lucius and Prairie is Hermione.
> 
> I'm also planning to rewrite An Encounter. Expand it to a multichapter fic. I hope I could find the time to write it.
> 
> I'm putting Lost Time on hold for the meantime while I brainstorm how the story will go. I haven't actually thought of anything past chapter 1.


End file.
